unhealthy but not unhappy
by closeincline
Summary: USxUK college AU. Alfred is a naïve freshman, Arthur is a well-versed but somewhat troubled exchange student, Francis is an annoying room mate, Mathew is a sassy gay friend, and about half the rest of world makes an appearance eventually.
1. Chapter 1 dog days are over

Chapter one- The Dog Days Are Over

Hey there readers- I hope you like this story! It's my first sort of modern AU story, and for a fellow college student, definitely the one that's the most relatable to personal experience, and that really effected they way I wrote it. Anyway, thanks to socontagious456 on livejournal for the beta on this, as well as help from my sisters! Love you forever! This story should hopefully be updated regularly, or as regularly as I can manage.

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Alfred was excited about college; so much bigger than high school, in the city. Everything was cooler in the city. His dorm was a huge tower of building, and the campus was nestled into the rest of the shops and residential building in that area. He loved the way it looked at night, out his window.

He was majoring in computer science, because tech was his favorite thing, and something people always said you could have a future in.

As a smaller town kid, the hardest part about the city was knowing where to go. He leapt to the suggestion of a coffee shop not far from campus when it was offered by a fellow computer science major as a place with a good internet connection.

He was sitting there one evening, kind of procrastinating. It wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't tired already.

Unable to focus, he caught himself staring off into space and looking around the café. Most of the inhabitants were other younger people, many working, while he scanned their faces.

There was a man, young, probably only a couple years older than him, sitting by himself reading. Alfred thought it was funny because he was there on solitary business just like plenty of the other people there, but he was just reading. No notes being taken, no pile of books and no backpack. Just a paperback and a cup of something warm looking. There was a light hung above his head and Alfred liked the way it shown on his blond hair, which was a light, pale bond, lighter than his own which was almost light brown. After a couple of moments, Alfred realized he was doing a serious kind of staring and turned back to his computer screen.

He saw him there other times. There were times that he would have a notebook and be writing in it, but not looking at anything, so Alfred had to assume it was his own thoughts he was writing. He usually had headphones in. Alfred found he had developed himself a little curiosity for this weird guy. Who just sat around and read, or wrote? Who would want to? He acted like he should be an old guy, but he wasn't. He always sat in the same spot, like he had a reservation on the chair or something. Alfred couldn't make much sense of him at all, yet he saw him often enough and practically tracked his habits into patterns.

It wasn't until halfway through January that he actually got to meet him.

Arthur rolled over from where he lay passed out on the floor and stared at the pill bottle that lay by the floor by his hand. His eyes wondered on to the stained and ripped up white carpet that would never see them getting their security deposit back. He was sore, and nauseous. And definitely about to vomit. Oh, shit.

He barely made the dash to the kitchen sink. Well. After his stomach was entirely empty, he slouched back down to the floor and leaned back against the cabinets.

"Uh- god." His head felt like it was about to split, worse that a usual hangover. Then again, this was pills and alcohol. Years ago, he would have been giddy from the excitement of what he had done, and he wouldn't have drank enough that he didn't remember what had happened to him the night before. As it was, he could muster up no more feeling than the urge to be passed out again. What would today bring? Another series of pointless events, which would culminate as the desperate attempt to feel alive, and if failing that, forget both desperation and failure.

When this first started, about a year ago, he thought that he would feel better if he went home, and perhaps it was just America that did this to him. But what was left for him in England? His family? Not worth a piss.

He hit head against the cabinet behind him, only to wince, and hold his hand to his forehead as pain shot through his brain, worse than it was before.

"Fuck."

He had always looked at America as a fresh start, an escape from all that other rot. At first it had been. But his buoyancy had been temporary, and here he was, half naked on a filthy kitchen floor, smelling like vomit and alcohol. Brilliant.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

By the way, all chapter titles are taken from songs I listened to while writing the chapter. This round: The Dog Days Are Over- Florence and the Machine.


	2. Chapter 2 1,2,3

Chapter 2- 1,2,3

Wow! So many people read this, or added it to their alerts! I was so happy guys! Really, I mean it! Thank you! I will keep updating, as promised. Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.

The song is 1,2,3- Camille.

Arthur felt odd, or wary. He took out one of his head phones, because he felt off, and when wary its best to have ones wits about them. He looked up, and immediately realized where the feeling had been coming from. Some bloke was staring at him. they had one of those awkward moments when one person is staring at the other, who noticed them staring, and then their eyes meet, and the person tries to look away as if they hadn't been looking.

But once the stranger goes back to his computer screen again, Arthur took him in a bit more. He was younger, definitely a college student. He looked familiar enough that Arthur thought he had probably seen him there before. He was fucking hard on the eyes either. Hm. He returned to his book.

After a while, Alfred invited his roommate, Mathew, to the café with him. Mattie was a bro, and as the year went on instead of liking him less, as most roommates did, Alfred and Mathew grew closer.

And so they began to go to the café more often together, for homework and the like. Mathew was quiet, so he was a pretty good study buddy, as far as Alfred could see.

"Oh hey Alfred, that's Francis, my French T.A.!" Mathew said as they were headed to a table Alfred had spotted as being empty.

"Oh. Isn't it kinda funny that he is a T.A. for French and his name is Francis?"

Mathew just gave him a withering look, and Alfred was about to ask what the bitch face was for, until he saw Francis the French T.A. and whom he was seated with.

In his usual spot by the window.

Mathew walked up to them, and Alfred followed. He met eyes with the blond boy, and could tell he was recognized. Francis was similarly fair haired, but his hair was longer and wavier, and he looked much more suave than the boy Alfred recognized.

"Hey Francis! How are you? This is my roommate Alfred."

"Hey." Alfred said, not sparing him too much attention.

"And this is my roommate Arthur." Francis said, indicating the blond. Arthur, Alfred thought. "Arthur, say something nice to the boys."

Arthur looked murder at Francis the French T.A. and then nodded to Mathew and Alfred.

"Nice to meet you, then."

Alfred thought he might have changed colors right there and then sunk through the floor, only to go through several other chemicals changes and end up at some kind of magma. Or something else hot and more liquid than solid. Because Arthur was British.

Mathew turned back to Francis and began to speak to him in French. Alfred stumbled desperately for something to say to Arthur, the Brit, with the accent to change sexuality. Find some they have in common and use it to start a conversation?

"Don'tcha hate it when they do that? English is the best language you could speak, why waste your time on something like French?" He was making a joke. He sucked at learning other languages, so he usually just tried to make learning them sound lame to make himself look less like a loser.

But to his great surprise and pleasure, Arthur's lips curved, just barely into a smile.

"Couldn't agree more."

Alfred took it as a personal victory. He loved the way a smile looked on Arthur's face. He would later get to know Arthur better, and learn that he really just hated French, and Alfred had by coincidence chosen just the right thing to say.

"Would you two like to join us?" Francis asked, breaking his conversation with Mathew off.

"Oh sure." Alfred said, hoping he didn't agree to quickly. He couldn't really explain his fascination with this man. He didn't usually get like this; not about something that wasn't technology.

Was Mathew noticing? Or was he not really looking over at him any more than he normally did?

"How are you two liking your year so far?" Francis asked, conversationally, but he was looking at Mathew when he spoke.

"Oh, we're alright," Mathew answered, looking over at Alfred as if for confirmation.

"It's not bad; it can just get kind of boring. I mean, it's like, work, sleep, work." Alfred said, trying to explain why it was just alright, instead of awesome like TV always made going to college look like.

Francis sighed dramatically and shook his head, and Arthur ducked his head and chuckled lowly.

"Mon ami." He spoke again to Mathew. "You are simply not doing the right things." Then he turned a bit and spoke to both of them. "You must come with us to a party this weekend." Arthur looked up, and raised an eyebrow. Francis didn't see or just ignored.

Mathew and Francis spoke more about this, but Alfred turned to Arthur again.

"So, are you in school, or…?" he let his question hang.

"Oh, yes. I'm in school with Francis. And you go to school with, uhm, Mathew?"

"Yeah! Just undergrad. What are you studying?"

"English."

"Oh. I'm majoring in computer science."

"Hm. Are you from around here?"

"Yeah, outside the city about two hours. I used to live in Virginia, but then we moved up here. What about you?"

"Well, I'm from England." He said, smirking a little, like he was trying to make Alfred look stupid, because obviously that's where he was from.

"Well, uh, duh dude. Like, what part of England?" Arthur still looked amused.

Arthur was a dick about telling people where he was from. Well, actually, Alfred would come to learn later, he was pretty much a dick about all kinds of things. But in particular, over time Alfred had come to acknowledge this particular thing. Arthur was from London, but he didn't like to tell people he was from the one part of England that ever one knew, so he would say the specific borough that he had lived in instead, just so he could smirk when they had to apologize and say they didn't know where that was. Dick.

"So how to do like America so far? Did you just come here for school?"

"America's alright, I suppose. And yes, I just came for school. I don't have family here or anything."

"Is it really different here?" Alfred had always wondered what exchange students really thought of the U.S. He loved it there, so he felt sure that all other people should come to feel the same if given enough time.

"Yes, but not as different as most other places."

Alfred thought Arthur was strange. He made Alfred curious. He was like that elusive perfect sentence his English teachers had always begged him to start his writing with that would pull the reader in immediately while not giving away the whole point of the story. Arthur pulled him and held him there, without ever really letting him know why. Everything he said was like this. 'Not as different as most other places' made it sound as if he had been all over. Where had he been? Did he like that it wasn't different?

This continued on.

They sat and talked for a little while, before both parties confessed they really needed to get going. But not before Francis gave Mathew his phone number, with the promise of texting him about a party that was happening that weekend.

And over the rest of the week, Alfred saw Mathew texting more frequently. And come Friday, Mathew told him that Francis had given them an address to go to. He said he would be there at ten, and recommended they do the same. Alfred savored the opportunity to break his routine, to do something other than play video games with the other guys in his dorm on a Friday night.

Alfred could hear the music before he went inside, and he was a little nervous. He had gone to plenty of parties in high school, and sometimes there was alcohol. He had drank before, but he had always been with people he had known practically his whole life. It wasn't that he thought he was making a bad choice. College was about living a little.

There were lots of people, and he didn't know them; it didn't seem to matter.

He really hoped Francis would be there. And he really, really hoped Arthur would be there.

It was loud, and chaotic, and smelled like stale alcohol. So far, so good.

He stayed close to Mathew, figuring there was safety in numbers.

"Have you ever been to a party like this?" Alfred yelled.

"No, not really." Mathew yelled back, while looking around at their surroundings.

Alfred was starting to feel a little awkward and out of place. He didn't know anyone and he wasn't sure where he should go. He wondered if they made a bad choice in coming here.

In the end, they wound up in a corner until Francis spotted them. He had Arthur in tow, as well as some other guys that Alfred would later learn were their flat mates, Gilbert and Antonio. Gilbert was cocky and rough, and Antonio was relaxed and cheerful.

Two hours later found Alfred sitting on the stairs with Arthur, mostly trashed, trying to make conversation, and trying not to look stupid. He was not sure how well he was succeeding. He had practically clung to Arthur all night, because Francis and Mathew had disappeared. By this point Alfred stopped being surprised. Francis didn't strike him as someone who wasted any time. And while he was concerned for Mathew's dignity and safety, Mathew had given him a thumbs up and waved him off when he tried to follow them.

Arthur was interesting. He was sure that if he wasn't drunk he would be even more interested. Presently, he was mostly trying to make sure he knew the correct definitions of the words that Arthur was using.

They talked for a while there, until people tried to move the couch up the stairs for some reason (they were pretty trashed, and probably not really sure what they were doing) and Arthur and Alfred were ousted from their spot.

While they stood by the door to the living room, a girl from Alfred's bio class walked by.

"Oh hey Alfred!"

"Oh, hi Sarah!"

"I didn't know you partied!"

"Haha, well not much so far."

"That's cool. You done the homework yet?"

"Nope! You?"

"Haha, no! But we should get together and do it. Or we can do something else haha! Wanna give me your number?"

"Oh sure!"

And he put it into her phone. He saw Arthur frown, out of the corner of his eye. The expression stuck until the girl bounced away.

"Oh, do you have a girl friend Alfred?" Arthur asked, a portrait of casual interest.

"I did over the summer, but we broke up when I came to college. She was kind of a loser anyway." And he laughed awkwardly. Arthur didn't frown any less. He might have started frowning more.

"Do you?" Alfred asked, and Arthur chuckled a little, shook his head and started in for the other room. Maybe that meant he didn't? Why did he laugh? He had never talked about anyone. Alfred shrugged.

Eventually, Alfred texted Mathew and they met up to go back to their dorm. Francis promised to text them again next Friday, and Alfred wondered if he had a thing for Matt. He wasn't going to ask, because he wasn't even sure if Matt swung that way. He had seen him talking to some blonde foreign exchange student in the first couple of weeks who had the biggest boobs he had ever seen so. Couldn't be sure.

But the next weekend, the same thing happened. Mathew and Francis disappeared, and Alfred clung to Arthur. Arthur knew a lot of people, oddly enough. He had something of a reputation at parties like this for drinking himself into a state. Alfred had yet to witness this, and was a little curious.

They partied on weekends, and Alfred would drink, and stumble home with Mathew and get laughed at by the other kids who lived in his hall when he fell over or made an ass of himself. He would wake up Saturdays with a head ache and a general lack of appreciation for the world. He would wake up, mope, and then go out again that evening. They didn't always go with Francis either. Once people saw him or Mathew at a party, they would invite them to others. And so it began.

He loved the thrill of meeting Arthur at parties that they had been invited to separately. He was always looking for him, hoping he might be there. He knew tons of people by that point, and was familiar with most of the crowd that partied at his school. But it was Arthur that he liked to try and find.


	3. Chapter 3 Dear Prudence

Hey guys! Sorry this is a little later than I had hoped. Life's been crazy, I'm sure you know how that goes. So anyway, I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think. I appreciate it 3

And this chapters song is Dear Prudence- The Beatles.

It was almost the end of the second semester, and the end of the year was approaching quickly. Alfred felt like it had gone by so fast. The city was getting warm, and the warmth it the air made it even harder for Alfred to stay inside and study. All he wanted to do was laze around or go to parties. Mathew had been invited to a party that was happening at Francis and Arthur's apartment. Alfred hadn't been invited, but Francis would probably have known that he was going to come. Alfred had never actually been to their apartment, and he had to admit he was a little curious. Arthur had suggested that Alfred might come by sometime, but Alfred never really knew how to take him up on it. He and Mathew took the train. It was more crowded because it was a Friday night, but they still managed to get seats. He looked around at all the people, and then to Mathew, who sat staring out the train's dark window.

Mathew was always so calm, and never pushy or anything. At times he felt like he got along well with Mathew because he was easy to be with, but often he also felt like there was so much different about it. Mathew could be so, it was hard to put a word on it, but vaguely put, different.

"Hey Mathew."

"Yeah?"

"You. Uh." He paused, to try and consider wording.

Mathew laughed a little at him.

"Dude, I'm not psychic. You're gunna have to be a little more specific than that."

"No, I just mean that. Like. Do you have a thing for Francis?"

Mathew looked back at him from where he had been staring at the black walls of the subway tunnel out the window.

"Wait seriously." He deadpanned.

"What?"

"No, really, this is something you actually need to ask me?"

"Well, no I mean like-" Alfred started to defend himself.

"No dude, you are the most oblivious shit I have ever met, seriously." He said, with laughter in his voice.

"Well, I mean, I thought it would be better to ask, just in case! I didn't want to assume or whatever!"

"Yeah dude, I kinda have a thing for Francis, but I'm not gay or whatever, I swing both ways." Alfred was a little taken aback by the easy way he said it. Maybe it was because he was Canadian? "And it's cool, because I am not totally unobservant, and whatever you have for Arthur or whatever. I thought you would have gotten Francis and me because you guys are…" but he trailed off at the vacant expression on Alfred's face.

"No man, I'm straight."

"What."

"No, I mean, Arthur is cool or whatever, but I only date girls."

Much to his displeasure, Mathew started laughing at him.

"Okay man, whatever. You let me know when you work though that denial, then come talk to me."

This left Alfred feeling very confused, but they were at their train stop.

They got to the flat, and let themselves in. Alfred took in his surroundings. It was trashed; there was a minimal amount of furniture, and lots of people. There was music and yelling. Alfred would in time come to accept this as a near constant state for that flat.

He spotted Arthur, and was happy. For some reason, when taking in Arthur's typically neat appearance, he was surprised to learn he lived in this dump. Arthur stood by a window, leaning against the wall, with a beer in his hands. Alfred made a b-line for him, shooting one hand up to wave at Francis and Antonio over a group of people as he went.

"Hey Arthur!" he said as he bounced over to where he stood.

"Oh, hullo Alfred." He said, raising his beer and nodding. "There's more of these in the kitchen."

"Okay, sweet. Thanks." He leaned against the wall next to Arthur. "How's it going?"

"Oh, it's alright. You know. Not much to comment on. My house is full of drunk idiots, but that's nothing so out of the ordinary. I've just learned to keep my bedroom door locked."

Alfred didn't ask how he learned that particular lesson.

"Which room is yours?" was what he asked instead.

Arthur pointed to a door off the living room, which was indeed shut.

Eventually Alfred helped himself to a beer and migrated back to where Arthur was. He couldn't stop thinking of what Mathew had said to him. He liked Arthur, a lot. But what was so odd about that? He didn't feel the same way he did when he was trying to make a girl think he looked cool. He didn't normally have to try very hard. With Arthur, he had to jump through flaming hoops just to get an expression other than mild irritation. It was so engaging that he usually didn't notice he was doing it.

He was in the middle of telling Arthur a story that he thought was wildly funny about trying to help some guy on his floor fix his computer because he had gotten a virus from a porn site when he happened to glance over to where Mathew stood with Francis and Gilbert. In the middle of a somewhat wild gesture, he looked over at Mathew, and their eyes met. Mathew had already been watching him. And Mathew made a face, a face full of knowing and irritating wisdom that seemed to say 'Look at yourself right now. You standing there, doing your best to try and make him laugh. You haven't spoken to anyone else all night. You aren't even drinking as much as you would if you were at a party he wasn't at because you want to stand there and talk to him, not be an idiot. You would do that for him, you will do anything for him. You might like girls, but you don't just like girls, no matter what you tell yourself, or your mom and dad. And I see though you.'

Or at least, that's what went though Alfred's head when he saw the look Mathew was giving him. How did this happen to him?

"… and then I fixed it, because I'm nice." He finished his story distractedly, still looking off in Mathew's direction. "I'm gunna go do some shots." Arthur frowned, looking confused, but Alfred slumped off towards the kitchen before he was questioned, to where they were doing shots on the counter.

He didn't usually drink till he was plastered drunk enough to forget what the night had been like stupid vomiting drunk. But it didn't seem like a bad idea, right then. Because his imagination of Mathew's wisdom was right.

He woke up the next morning on the floor of his room, rolled over and vomited all over his carpet.

Well, thanks for reading! I know it was kind of a gross way to end a chapter, but there is really no way to write about over-drinking without a little bit of vomit…. . yeah, sorry. Fourth chapter should be up within a week ^n^;


	4. Chapter 4 Pumpkin Soup

Hey there guys! Here we have chapter four! Thanks for sticking with it, it means a lot to me. I shall apologize in advance about the copious texting in this chapter, I you can still follow it. It's just the way people talk now a days ya know? So anyways.

Song for this chapter is Pumpkin Soup by Kate Nash. There were some other close runners up for this, but I thought this one fit best 3

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Alfred:

Hey Arthur did i leave my shoe at ur house?

Arthur:

Red, white and blue sneaker?

Alfred:

Yeah

Arthur:

Should I even bother to ask how you got home without it?

Alfred:

Probably not. I wouldnt be able 2 tell u anyway. Can i come get it?

Arthur:

sure.

Alfred quivered a bit in excitement. He was still hung over as hell and feeling like shit from the night before. He had no idea what he had done, or what had happened. Mathew wasn't there.

Maybe he should check on that.

Alfred:

Hey matt, where r u?

Mathew:

Toris and Feliks' place with Katyusha.

Alfred:

Oh. Should I ask how I got home?

Mathew:

I brought you there.

Alfred:

Omg you are such a fucking bro, I owe you forever.

Mathew:

Don't owe me anything, but if you wanna do something to make me happy text Arthur.

Alfred:

Already did.

Mathew:

Whatd he say?

Alfred:

That I could come over and get my sneaker.

Mathew:

Oh they found it? Awesome. Well. Talk to him.

Alfred:

I was going 2?

Mathew:

Good. C u 2nite?

Alfred:

Yeah thnx dude.

He got to Arthur's flat, and was let in by a groggy looking Arthur who was wearing a button up that was too big for him and weird pants as pajamas. Alfred thought that they were the funniest excuse for pajamas he had ever seen. Then again, Arthur usually seemed to dress differently than Alfred. When it was cold, Alfred might put on his Northface. When Arthur was cold he put on a hand knit Irish wool sweater. It was almost like a generation gap except Arthur was only four years older than him.

"Hey." Alfred said.

"Hullo." And Arthur stood aside so he could come in.

"How's it going?"Alfred asked. He looked around at the apartment, which still showed obvious signs of the night's mayhem; bottles everywhere and people sleeping on all available flat horizontal surfaces.

Arthur too surveyed the damage.

"Well enough. I'm guessing you made it back last night?"

"Ha, yeah, I'm guessing I did." He really did have to guess. "I think I have Matt to thank for that." He was assuming Mathew had dragged him back to their dorm, and left Alfred to fend for himself from there, which was why he had been on the floor.

"You don't remember at all, do you?"

"Haha, nope!"

"Oh. Well. I'm not sure why you were set on going home. I offered to let you stay here but…" and Arthur let the implication hang for a moment before continuing. "But you spouted something that didn't make sense about Mathew knowing too much, which seemed to make sense to him… and then you two were off. For better or for worse."

Alfred tried to laugh lightly, but mostly just felt awkward.

"You were pretty pissed, mate." Arthur said, his tone polite, but Alfred was certain there was something underneath it. At first Alfred thought he meant 'pissed' as in angry, but he was pretty sure it was British for shit faced or something.

"Sorry if I was an ass hole or anything dude."

"No, not at all." Arthur's face remained blank.

"Haha, sweet." They stood silently for a moment, and Alfred has a bad feeling that Arthur was lying. He didn't look like Alfred hadn't been an ass hole. Maybe he needed to make it up to him? He didn't want Arthur to get pissed, or worse stay pissed at him.

"Well any ways, sorry if I bailed. I was gunna go to the café this afternoon to try and do some homework before tonight. I have a ton of shit to do for finals. If you had stuff to do we could both go…?" he left the suggestion open, hoping Arthur would get it without him having to go on. Although they had often seen each other at the café, they had never actually gone together or intentionally met there. So Alfred thought it might be nice to offer.

Arthur looked startled, and a little confused. Alfred almost panicked, wondering if he had some something wrong.

But Arthur relaxed.

"Sure Alfred. I have more than enough shit to do, we might as well give it a go, huh? I'm still disgusting," Alfred personally disagreed, but didn't vocalize his thoughts. He thought he looked absolutely fine. "But if you want to give a moment to shower and grab my books we can go."

"Sure!" and Alfred sat down on the floor (because the couch was occupied) and turned on the TV to wait for Arthur. Whoever was asleep on the couch wasn't even awoken by the TV's noise. Arthur pulled out his phone as he headed back towards his room and Alfred absently wondered who he was texting.

He was absorbed in the TV until he saw Arthur exit the bathroom in nothing but a towel about ten minutes later. Yeah, it was around his waist, and his hair was wet and his body was wet, and Alfred could see his bare arms and chest. Arthur saw him, and he saw Arthur.

"Almost ready?" he said, trying to put a laugh in his voice, and failing. He felt awkward because he was pretty sure he had been staring. It wasn't like an attracted stare, he didn't think. He just couldn't look away.

Was Arthur smirking?

"Just about." And he swayed his ass he walked into his bed room. Why? Alfred wondered.

Why all of it?

Arthur finally reappeared, fully clothed and with his bag and books. They took the train to the café, arguing about which line was the fastest to get there.

Mathew texted him.

Hows it going?

Alfred:

Fine. Out with Arthur.

Mathew:

Oh. Have fun ;)

Alfred:

No dude, don't joke. We just went to study at the cafe b/c I felt bad for being a dick last night.

Mathew:

Okay, w/e, have fun.

He and Arthur found a table, and pulled out their books, and even looked at them sometimes, but mostly they talked.

"So what's your family like Arthur? Back in England." Alfred asked. He had always been curious, but didn't really want to invade Arthur's much coveted personal boundaries.

Arthur sighed, and looked away.

"Well. They're not much."

"Well like, do you have any siblings?"

"Oh, yeah, them. Yeah, I've got two older brothers, an older sister and two younger brothers."

"Whoa shit! Dude, you have a ton of siblings!"

"Well, they aren't all full blooded."

"Oh, okay. Well what are their names?"

Arthur sighed again.

"There's Seamus, who's the oldest, then Patrick, then Roisin, then me, then Owen, then Peter. We've got different fathers, or different mothers."

"Wow. That's cool I guess. Do you miss them?"

"No."

"Oh." Arthur didn't seem overly enthusiastic about his family. Alfred decided to drop it.

Alfred had a small family, and was an only child. He had some cousins, but other than that. Thinking about it, he realized that compared to Arthur he was probably a little spoiled.

Much later that night, after Arthur had returned home, mug of tea in hand, he sat down on the couch next to Francis who had already been inhabiting it.

"Had a good night, Arthur?" Francis asked over his own mug, which contained coffee.

"Oh, certainly." Arthur replied, his tone sarcastic.

"Oh Arthur, what is that bitter tone?"

"Fuck you Francis; you know exactly what this is."Arthur spat at him.

"You still have gotten in Alfred's pants?"

Arthur groaned, closed his eyes, and looked at the ceiling. After a couple moments he seemed to resign himself to have a conversation about it.

"I don't even fucking care about this anymore. He is playing harder to get than should be legal. Fuck that."

"Ah, and don't you wish you could."

"Shut up Francis! Christ. I just don't understand what he is doing. I mean, if he doesn't want it, then why is he bothering? He drags me around, then doesn't even try and get with me when he is pissed out of his head."

"Would you like to know what our little Mathieu told me?"

"Hm?" Arthur didn't bother looking at him, and instead when back to glaring up at the ceiling.

"He doesn't not know what he is doing. Mathew says that poor Alfred is in denial because he has never been attracted to a man before, and he didn't know he had it in him. So even though it is quite clear to all of us, Alfred still remains unaware."

Arthur's head snapped back to stare at Francis with incredulity.

"You're kidding." He finally said deadpanned.

Francis chuckled, shaking his head.

"Mathew told me last night that they had a conversation about it. And Arthur I believe that was part of what fueled Alfred's little performance last night."

Arthur rested his head on the mug he held between his hands.

"Good god, what ever did I do to deserve this?"

As much as Alfred was bothered by this, and honestly everything, it was the week before finals, and he had a ton of studying to do, and then he would be going home. He would be home for three months before he would come back here, and by then he was sure none of this would be very important anymore. What Mathew thought, or how he felt, or what Arthur did with his hips on his way back from a shower. He would go home and mow lawns and play baseball and not care about this shit.

This was his solid plan, it was infallible.

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And thanks for reading! Thank you to everyone for following this, or reviewing, it means so much to me! Sorry again if this update was slow. Life=hard.


	5. Chapter 5 What I Wouldn't Do

He had been home for about a week or two, and already was working mowing lawns around the neighborhood. But mowing lawns didn't require too much thought, and he found himself doing hours of deft labor which left his mind to wander. Wander back to the city and the subways and all the dorms and apartments he had been in over the last year. All the places he had seen Arthur, all the times he had stumbled home hanging off of Mathew. He didn't miss school, but he did miss that.

He got off work one afternoon, and as he sat in his truck about to drive home, he decided to text Arthur. Just to see how his summer was going. The cicadas were buzzing softly in the trees that lined the suburban road, and Alfred felt peaceful.

Alfred:

Hey Arthur! Hows it goin?

He started his truck and started driving; Arthur didn't reply until he was home.

Arthur:

Hey Alfred. Im fine. How are you?

Alfred:

Im great. Just got off work. What are you up to?

Arthur picked up his phone, and opened the text and read it. What the hell was he playing at? Just texting Arthur to see what he was thinking about? What was he, a seventeen year old girl? And if not, what did he want from Arthur? Unsure of how to reply, he just answered honestly.

Arthur:

Im about to go to work actually. Other than that not much going on.

Alfred replied to the text just before he ditched his stuff and got in the shower. After he got out, they kept texting. They talked until Alfred felt caught up on what Arthur was up to. Arthur was a T.A. for the English department somewhere, and in the summer he also worked at a café part time. Alfred asked him how he was enjoying it, and what he was going to do when he left. He asked about what Arthur had done so far that summer and how the rest of the guys were doing.

And Arthur texted him back all through work. He was just helping with the grading on some of the summer English courses that afternoon, and so he texted Alfred under the desk.

Why did he think this would get better or die off once the summer came?

Alfred sat down to dinner that night a mix of emotions. He was happy; he had spoken to Arthur, and with every beep his phone had made to let him know he had a new text Alfred's heart had leapt. At the same time he was disappointed because he had really thought this wouldn't happen. It was supposed to go away once he went home. Once he was away from all that, he was supposed to get over it. He had thought he might text some of the girls he went to high school with, and see if they wanted to hang out. Get his old friends together and go to the beach.

Nope.

His parents didn't say anything, which also surprised him.

He had a dream about Arthur or a dream with Arthur in it anyways. It was like there was no escape. Most of his waking thoughts ended up turning to Arthur, and now his unconscious also turned against him?

_I can't do this, _he thought. _I'm not like this. Am I? It's not normal. No._

And so he internalized his feelings as best he could, and kept trying to present they weren't there. Perhaps if he ignored them for long enough they would decide to leave him alone?

Mathew:

Hey Alfred. Hows summer going?

Alfred:

Great! You?

Mathew:

Awesome. Im having a blast. Are you coming in for Francis' b-day?

Alfred:

Am I invited? That would be awesome! When is it? I can take off work.

Mathew:

July 14. Are you gunna drive in?

Alfred:

Sure! Is the party at the apartment?

Mathew:

Yeah. See you there?

Alfred:

Awesome! See you there.

And so Alfred told his parents he would be going into the city for a couple of days, and then took the days off work. Every time he thought about seeing everyone (Arthur) he got excited.

At the same time he was scared. Not really scared scared, because it wasn't like he had anything to be afraid of right? Nope. It was just that what happened when he did see Arthur?

Sometimes he thought about what it would be like to kiss Arthur. He tried not to; because he couldn't ever imagine himself pulling away from the kiss and having Arthur smile that slow smile and then leaning in to kiss him back. All he could realistically see happening was Arthur giving him that disgusted look that he gave Francis sometimes when Francis would try and molest him. That pure repulsion and disgust that Alfred didn't think he could ever handle being aimed at him.

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Cool, sorry this took so long. It's really short too. Hm. I will have to update again soon I guess. But yeah, next chapter, we have party times! Woohoo!

This week title comes from What I Wouldn't Do- A Fine Frenzy


	6. Chapter 6 Fascination

Hey guys! Longest chapter yet, and there's some serious action in this one woohoo.

Things have settled down a little for me, so hopefully I can work on this more. Thanks for your patience. And thank you to all the people who have been reading this, an looking for alerts on it, I really appreciate it!I have some questions and comments for you guys, but I will put them at the bottom...

Our song this update is Fascination- La Roux

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The apartment was dimly lit, and the music was louder, probably to encourage dancing. The couch had been moved against the wall, probably for the same purpose.

Alfred sought out Mathew first, found him with Francis, gave them both a bro hug, and stood next to Mathew for a little while. Because he wasn't going to go looking for Arthur. Nope.

He and Mathew talked about their summers. Mathew had gone on vacation with his family in Maine. Alfred told him about mowing lawns, playing baseball and watching TV/ playing video games. The stood silently for a while.

"Seen Arthur yet?" Mathew asked. He didn't yell it, so over the music it was like whispering.

"No." Alfred said quickly, almost before Mathew had finished asking.

Mathew nodded, knowingly.

"You should."

"Why'd you say that?" Alfred asked, again too quickly. Not because he was feeling defensive or anything.

"I bet he'd like to see you man, you've been gone for like a month in a half. And it's his apartment. Why wouldn't you?"

_Because I can't._

"Oh, haha, I guess you're right." And Alfred walked off, because not doing so would have felt awkward. He could just pretend to go find Arthur, so that-

And then he saw him. He was across the room, past the majority of the people (did Francis really know all these people? and if so, how?) and not really dancing, but not really standing still and talking to people.

Something lit inside of Alfred. He wasn't scared. It didn't matter. He made his way to where Arthur was, and stood in front of him. Arthur looked up, and met his eyes, surprised for a moment, and then he looked a little happy. And Alfred felt sure.

He kissed him. He moved forward, placing a hand on the side of Arthur's face, and kissed him. He didn't kiss him like he would have kissed a girl. He kissed him like he would kiss _him, _because he was Arthur. They didn't stand out, half the people present were involved in something illicit, and mostly far more so than what they were doing.

He pulled away, and he would think back on it later and realize he didn't even think for a moment about his nightmares where Arthur would make the disgusted face. Because Arthur looked shocked for a minute, and then he lit up too. Not just the slow smile, but a burst of light. It hit his eyes, his whole face.

And then he grabbed Alfred, and kissed him back. He put both hands behind Alfred's neck and pulled him towards him.

Alfred felt like his knees had turned to something less than solid, and like he would just fall down. But Arthur held him there, Arthur made him steady. He clung to that steadiness.

When they finally pulled apart, Alfred thought he heard a whoop, and turned to see Francis and Gilbert giving each other high fives, and Mathew beaming at them.

Alfred's face felt like it was on fire and probably bright red. Arthur flipped them off, but he was grinning like mad.

Then he looked back at Alfred. Alfred met his eyes.

After a moment, Arthur chuckled.

"What?" Alfred asked, scared about what might be funny.

"You aren't even drunk. You haven't had anything yet." Arthur said too quietly, as if he didn't really care whether Alfred heard him or not.

"Of course I'm not drunk, why would I be? Why were they cheering?" he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the peanut gallery.

Arthur laughed.

"You are clueless." He said, but he tone was more amazement than scathing.

Alfred didn't think about what he had done, what it meant, what it would mean, or why.

He was just happy.

He drank a couple beers, did a shot or two, turned down the pot that was offered to him, and danced a little. He kissed Arthur again. And again. Because he could.

And then they were kissing and Arthur slipped one of his hands down Alfred's back to grab his butt and Alfred gasped a little. He had never been with a girl that did that. They would put their hands on his chest or something like that. He kissed back harder, and Arthur looked a little feral.

Then Arthur muttered something that might have been "Ha, I live here." Before grabbing Alfred's hand and pulling him after him. Alfred realized where they were going when Arthur unlocked his bedroom door. Alfred felt excitement shoot through him.

They got inside, and Arthur kissed him against the back of the door. The touched more and kissed harder and pulled closer. He was getting hot, and each time Arthur ran a hand up his side, he felt himself getting hotter. It pooled in his groin, and fueled him to kiss harder, wanting more.

Then Arthur moved to kiss his neck, and Alfred felt a little shock of pleasure run through him. He had his hands on Arthur's hips, and he pulled them closer and ground their hips together. He was mildly surprised for a moment, because he hadn't even really thought about it, but he realized how hard he was and after their movement he was able to see how hard Arthur was.

Arthur pulled away from his neck to look in his eyes. Arthur's own eyes were hooded in an incredibly sexy way and the way he was looking at Alfred pulled him in.

Arthur turned away and began to walk towards his bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. Alfred paused for one moment, just to look down at himself, how aroused he was just by kissing Arthur. Yeah, that didn't always happen like that. Then he followed Arthur towards the bed. Alfred hadn't finished taking his shirt off before they were kissing again.

Arthur groped the front of his pants, and Alfred leaned into the touch. He was a little nervous, because he knew Arthur had way more experience with this kind of stuff, and just because he was wanted Arthur didn't mean he necessarily wanted to sleep with him, about two hours after he had accepted what was going on here. He didn't say anything though. He trusted Arthur.

So instead he reached over and began to touch Arthur, and simply focused on how good it felt.

Finally they stopped kissing to try and rid themselves of pants. Alfred shook a little as he undid the zipper on his jeans.

Arthur undid his belt buckle and pulled off his pants and underwear at the same time. Taking his queue, Alfred pulled off his own underwear, and as he did so, Arthur turned around to throw his pants on his desk chair.

Alfred stared. He would have been totally transfixed by Arthur's ass, if it hadn't been for the tattoo. A six string guitar, done in black, it started about midway from his ass and then went up onto his back. It was on his left side.

"Whoa Arthur. When'd you get that?" his first question had been 'how many people know about that', but then he decided Arthur wasn't really the guy to talk about that sort of thing, so probably only the people that slept with him.

Arthur didn't look sure of what he thought Alfred meant for a moment, then saw what he was looking at.

"Oh, er, when I was seventeen."

"What? Dude, how'd you get it?" Alfred's parents would never sign for him to do something like that.

"With money." Arthur said simply.

At the time, Alfred thought that seemed like an obvious statement. It wasn't like it was going to be free, so duh. He would later realize that Arthur was actually answering his intended question, being how did he get it even thought he was underage. At the time it didn't occur to Alfred that Arthur came from enough money that he was able to do things like that.

Arthur turned back to him, fully naked now. He was wiry, and built slimmer, but he didn't look fragile. In the orange light that shown through the window from the street lamps outside, Alfred soaked in the realization of what was before him. Arthur, this was Arthur, and they were naked, and he was hard, they both were, and Alfred wanted him. He realized these things, but that was all the thinking he did.

When he met Arthur again to kiss, Arthur put a hand on his lower back and pulled them close. The contact and closeness sent a jolt through Alfred. He pushed back against it, want more, more. Arthur met his every move, and soon they were grinding against each other. Arthur's hand snaked down between them and took Alfred's length into his hand.

Alfred let out a breath, and he saw Arthur's wicked grin.

Arthur nudged him backwards a little, and Alfred took the hint and climbed onto the bed. Arthur leaned over him, still working his hand up and down Alfred's cock. His pace was too slow, Alfred wanted more. So he reached for Arthur in turn.

He had never done this to someone else before, and for a moment he felt a bit of shame from inexperience. He knew Arthur had been with plenty of other people. He lacked that same knowledge. Then again, it wasn't like he hadn't ever jacked himself off, so hopefully if he just went with that?

They only stayed that way, working each other, for a moment before Arthur seemed to change his mind. He leaned in to kiss Alfred, pressed down on him. They kissed deeply, and for a while like that with their hands wandering before Arthur moved on to kiss Alfred's neck. He kissed down to his collar bone, then to his chest. Alfred heard himself making small gasping sounds, trying to breathe evenly.

At some point he realized what Arthur was planning to do.

It wasn't as if he had never had a blow job. There had been times in high school, after a party in his truck where he might have wound up with some girl. But this wasn't some girl, this was Arthur.

When Arthur's mouth finally closed around his cock, he jerked a bit just from the sensation. It felt so incredibly amazing, Alfred knew he was being more vocal now, but he couldn't seem to keep his mouth closed to keep the noise from escaping.

Arthur continued with no mercy. He licked the tip, and sucked it all the way down, he would build a steady pace to where Alfred would feel like he was getting close, only to have Arthur slow, or do something else. It was almost too intense; none of the girls he had been with had ever been able to do that.

"God Arthur" he moaned, "Please."

Arthur's eyes darted up to his for one moment, looking hooded and devious. But he seemed to have taken pity on Alfred because he stayed steady, and allowed Alfred to finish. Alfred went stiff as he felt his orgasm wash over him, and he cried out.

Then he lay back limp. Arthur, who for his part seemed to be content to simply wipe his lips and look pleased with himself, lay back down along side Alfred. Alfred felt like he was still reeling, while at the same time not really fit to move ever again.

Arthur obviously wasn't struggling with the same thing. He gave Alfred a moment to breath, and then began kissing him again. Alfred realized that it was probably his turn and felt a little bit of nervousness turn in his stomach. Arthur kissed him vigorously, and Alfred began to regain his own strength.

He had no idea how he was supposed to do this, but he figured it would be best to try and just copy what Arthur had done as closely as he could. He kissed down Arthur's chest, until he reached his crotch. Well, what did he have to lose?

To have Arthur's length in his mouth was an odd sensation, and Alfred started out slow, not really sure how to make his lips close around it without risking the involvement of teeth. He began to bob his head, and Arthur put his hands in Alfred's hair. It still seemed sort of surreal. This was Arthur, and Alfred was lying naked on his bed, sucking his dick.

God, he loved the way Arthur seemed to be enjoying this, but how long was this going to take? Alfred's mouth was starting to hurt. Was it taking longer because he wasn't any good at it? Or was it-?

But Arthur was making little appreciative sounds, eyes closed. So Alfred supposed he ought to take heart and make the best of it.

When Arthur finally came, Alfred wasn't ready for it and it nearly gagged him. There was semen in his mouth, and he was pretty grossed out, but he remembered how casually Arthur had dealt with it. Time to suck it up.

Haha, literally?

But Arthur rolled over on the pillow, breathing heavily, and then turned his head to smile a little at Alfred. Alfred couldn't help it; he had to grin back, even around the raw taste of semen in his mouth and down his throat. He wiped his face on the back of his hand, and curled up behind Arthur and kissed his nape.

Arthur shivered and Alfred pulled up the covers.

Alfred woke slowly. His head hurt like death. He began to assess his situation. He was in a bed, but not his own. He was naked.

And Arthur lay curled up next to him. He struggled to remember everything that happened. This situation had to have some pretty specific prerequisites. Which included getting undressed and into a bed with Arthur, at some point. Okay. Slowly it came back, gently, fuzzily. He grinned into his pillow.

Arthur stirred slightly. Alfred didn't just want to watch him while he slept, because that seemed creepy, but at the same time he felt there was something worth noting in that he had had the impulse.

He lay there for a while, just thinking. He was beginning to understand, in a slow way, as the whole surrealness of the fact that he was naked in bed with another man sank in, that he had wanted Arthur, really, all along. Or he began to understand that the way he was looking at Arthur, the way he couldn't stop looking at Arthur, that was wanting.

It was funny because all he wanted to do was look at him, but then when they actually spoke Alfred always felt the need to avert his eyes, like Arthur was something too bright to look directly at. He blamed it on a sort of overcorrecting from the actual staring he wanted to do.

Instead he looked around the room for a moment. A bright morning light came through the window, and illuminated Arthur's things. Alfred could tell that although it was cluttered, it was clean. There was a ton of junk (Shit, who even had enough money for that many books?) and clothes in piles in some places, but it was cleaner than Alfred's shit in his room. There were posters and pictures on the walls, and Alfred made a note to inspect them more closely. Some looked like band posters, other just random things like post cards.

He peeked at Arthur again, and saw that his eyes were open. He looked so bleary and unguarded as he blinked dazedly at Alfred, that he couldn't help but smile at him.

"What?" Arthur asked, and the more awake he became the more walls he seemed to be throwing up. His voice was mildly defensive. Alfred wasn't sure why.

"Nothing I guess."Alfred said, not wanting Arthur to get mad or anything, and also unsure of how to explain himself.

"Hm." Arthur said, and rolled over so his face was buried in the pillow.

"Did you sleep well?" Alfred asked. He wanted to reach out, and kiss Arthur's hair, but at the same time, he was unsure. How was this supposed to work out now? First of all, Arthur was a guy, and what if he didn't like that? And how serious was this whole thing? Did Arthur just want him to go home?

Arthur rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. He was in bed, with Alfred. And they had. Well. Done enough that Alfred couldn't really keep up with that bullshit about not being into guys. And he was still here, which meant he wasn't just wanting some one's bed to sleep in (although Arthur had never figured Alfred for the type to do much of that sort of thing anyways).

But it was Alfred. Untouchable fucking Alfred. And Arthur had done all the touching he wanted. _Yeah, and I bet I can do it again, I bet. _Arthur thought.

Never one to leave a good theory untested, Arthur screwed his courage to the sticking place and rolled back over. Alfred was staring off into space looking bereft. Arthur felt a little bit like maybe he would be wrong for Alfred, in that moment. Alfred seemed like he loved with sincerity, and Arthur rarely did. Alfred seemed like, in that absent stare he gave the air in front of him, the kind of person that would want everything from a relationship, where as Arthur wasn't sure what he wanted.

Alfred noticed he was looking at him again, and looked almost silly with his hopefulness. Arthur almost sighed.

He leaned close to him, slowly closing in, while Alfred's eyes locked with his and he looked hypnotized, like he was trapped there, still like prey, while Arthur came close and began to kiss him. At the contact the spell was broken, and Alfred was free to move again. He kissed Arthur back with enthusiasm; he was so bloody sincere about the whole thing Arthur almost started laughing. When was the last time he'd been kissed like that?

Arthur was sure he was disgusting, and smelled of stale alcohol and was not worth being close to. But Alfred pulled their bodies together anyways. If he could stand how repulsive Arthur must have been, then Arthur wasn't going to pull away.

They tangled themselves around in the sheets for a while more, and Arthur allowed his hands to wander around Alfred's body in such a fashion as he would actually be sober enough to appreciate it. Alfred, following his lead, began to do the same. His hands moved from where they had been holding Arthur's face to down one going down his back, and then roaming down to squeeze his butt. He grinned into their kiss and pushed Alfred back into the bed. They continued like this for some time, until they heard a crash, and someone yelled "Oh Fuck!" from outside Arthur's door.

They looked at each other, and then both laughed a little.

"I wonder what happened." Alfred said, still smiling.

Arthur paused to consider.

"We have three options: either Gilbert broke the coffee pot, Lovino threw something at Antonio and missed, or someone who's' still hung over was trying to puke and knocked over the bin with all the bottles in it."

Alfred looked at him appraisingly for a moment.

"I guess I'm a little impressed that you already know." He said and laughed again. Arthur just shrugged. "If Gilbert didn't bust the coffee pot, I could definitely go for some." He said somewhat wistfully.

"Well then get your lazy arse out of the bed and get some." Arthur said, slapping his butt playfully.

Alfred just groaned.

"Okay, fine."

He rolled out of the bed gracelessly, but stood with the height of an athlete. Arthur watched from where he lay still in the bed. He hadn't got quite as thorough of a study as he might have liked the night before, and for as often as he imagined what Alfred would look like without clothes, he felt justified to satisfy himself with this.

It was odd, his physique wasn't a model's, but rather like those found in classical art. He didn't look skinny, he looked full, almost to the point of being sculpted to emphasize musculature, and even though he was weighty in a way that you would never see on a runway, he was perfectly constructed. Arthur drunk in the sight of it with reverence.

Alfred hunted for his boxers on Arthur's full floor (it wasn't messy, it was just full).

"Aren't you gunna get up too?"

"Ah, but must I?"

"Come on dude, coffee?"

"Tea would be better, but I still see your point. Coming."

He almost wished Alfred wouldn't find his boxer's so Arthur could take in more of him for longer.

"Oh, here they are!"

But alas, fate was cruel.

"And my pants!"

Oh crueler still.

"Dude, what the fuck, I have like 10 texts! Christ." Alfred pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants pockets while Arthur dressed himself a bit.

"They're all from Mathew! Oh he didn't know where I went last night." Alfred laughed. "I guess he wasn't sure if I had gone in here with you or left!" he laughed even more. Arthur didn't think it all that funny, but he wasn't sure why.

"Oh well, I'll just let him know."

"I wouldn't bother texting him back, he's probably in Francis' bed as we speak, and if there is coffee going, they'll be up soon enough."

"He's in Francis' bed?" Alfred looked a little surprised, and Arthur had to snort.

"Alfred, please." Arthur said.

"Well whatever, it's not where I would be, but who cares."

"Hm, yes I believe you made it clear where you would be." Arthur muttered, on his way towards the door. He wasn't sure why, but the full realization of what he said, and that it was true, made him feel a little bit fucking fantastic. It was his bed Alfred had tripped into, his sheets Alfred had twisted and his floor he'd had to root through. Take that.

The living area of the flat was a right disaster, but that was pretty typical. Especially since this whole thing was for Francis's birthday.

It had in fact been Lovino throwing a mug at Antonio that had caused the crash. He was sulking while Antonio made coffee when the two emerged from Arthur's room. Antonio raised his eyes to them as they left, and raised his eye brows a bit, but didn't say anything after Arthur made eye contact with him.

Arthur knew Alfred was sort of shy about things like this, and that he was probably feeling shaky about the whole thing. Arthur wanted to avoid any possible negative reactions or repercussions of their actions in the hope that Alfred might be coerced into doing it again. Often.

Arthur decided he needed to just count himself lucky that Lovino was too busy sulking to get involved, because he was too rude an oblivious to care about things like that. Then again, Antonio could only relate because of how long he'd gone after Lovino.

"Antonio, man, I am digging the smell of what you have going on over there."

"You want some coffee Alfred?"

"That would be seriously awesome." And Alfred went over to lean against the counter on the other side of the kitchen next to Lovino. Lovino ignored him. Other people were starting to wake up, and wander into the area. Most people had gone home at some point, but there were plenty of people who knew enough of the people who lived in that house that they felt entitled to stay. Lovino's brother, Feliciano, slept on the couch with Gilbert's brother, and both of them were fairly regular around here, since Feliciano was cozy with Francis as well. He had met Ludwig through Gilbert and being around the house.

Arthur could swear that flat was responsible for too much of the shit that happened around there. Half the people who spent time here had slept with each other at some point, or else gotten in fights or something like that. He would blame most of it on Francis, he simply attracted the most deplorable people. Including Arthur himself.

He scowled a bit at his thoughts as he filled up his electric tea kettle and got out his mug and some tea.

He had met Francis the second week of school, and eventually it had become apparent to Arthur that he was not cut out for dorm life. Not long after he had taken Francis's offer to fill the open room in the apartment. Nothing had been the same since then.

Mathew appeared at some point.

"Alfred, were did you go last night?" he said as he entered the kitchen.

Alfred laughed a little, but in a way that made it sound like he was sort of uncomfortable.

Arthur wondered if it should bother him that Alfred might feel ashamed of it.

"I was with Arthur." He said sheepishly.

Mathew's mouth made a little "o" in surprise for a moment, but then he just nodded in graceful understanding. Arthur knew Francis wouldn't be so graceful.

He wasn't as hung over as he might have been after a different party, but honestly, he had been so focused on Alfred that he hadn't really been keen on getting hammered and then blacking out and forgetting his victory.

He had never had to wait on someone the way he had waited for Alfred. He had never chased someone, never really had to work hard to seduce them. But Christ, he had had to string Alfred along for every bit.

Perhaps that was what had made it so enjoyable?

What if now that he had him he would lose his appeal?

Arthur poured his tea, lost in his thoughts and ignore the light conversation around him.

Would Alfred keep up with this? Would Arthur want him to? He wasn't sure what he wanted from this, or what he thought would happen. Normally after he slept with someone at a party, they awkwardly avoided each other until it was forgotten. He had slept with Gilbert once, shit faced and lonely, and they had not looked each other in the face for a month afterwards. But Alfred stayed in his bed, Alfred looked at him and Arthur could see feeling in his face, Alfred kissed like he meant it, Alfred watched him reverently out of the corner of his eye when he thought Arthur wasn't looking.

No one had ever done that before.

Deciding to do what he wanted and not consider the consequences, he took his tea and stood beside Alfred against the counter, and thought no more of how this would end.

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So! I hope you liked it!

I feel like it's worth mentioning "surealness" isn't a real word. But some how I feel like that doesn't stop Alfred from thinking it, so I put it in there. I know some times my sentence structure are weird, and if that gets confusing let me know and I will try and write in a way that makes better sense to you guys. Also, I feel like there is a lot of bad language in this ^_^ but I believe our boys have foul mouths, wouldn't you agree?

And on the chapter titles... I use them first of all because I like music, whatever. But also because when I read a story, I don't like to look at the chapter titles in case they give away what might happen in the chapter (something like 'The Kiss' or something like that). So I use these because they are more ambiguous while still relating to what's going on.

Some questions: First of all, this is written with a specific city and universities in mind. When I talk about places, I have a real place in mind, but I don't want to make it confusing for people, or make it harder to imagine or relate to so I leave it out. Would you like me not to? I can casually throw it in there...Also, how interested are people in hearing some things about characters other than Alfred and Arthur? Almost every one fits in here somewhere, if you guys want some more mentions, I can add them. Let me know :)

And thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

It was Saturday. Alfred was supposed to be back to work by Monday, and he technically had practice Sunday afternoon. So he knew he would be leaving Sunday afternoon. Right. That's when he needed to go home.

But as they stood in the kitchen, all a little hung over, all a little tired, all in various states of undressed, he didn't really want to leave. The chatter was light, people floated in and out, but Arthur stayed constant at his side.

Arthur.

Alfred glanced at him sideways out of the corner of his eye.

He had sucked Arthur's dick last night. Yeah. That had happened.

Alfred almost felt guilty, like he should know better than to suck a guy's dick, but it was Arthur, and at the same time, he was too busy feeling kind of giddy. He felt giddy because it had been totally awesome, and although he thought maybe things should have felt weird, standing there next to Arthur in the kitchen, it didn't feel wrong at all.

For some reason, he had kind of thought that doing that would make him different somehow. But it didn't. Not really. And he had thought that maybe in the daylight he might feel differently about it, like it was something he should only do when he was drunk, or desperate, or at a party. But.

But he wanted more than that.

What if Arthur didn't?

His stomach turned over a little, a mix of dread and anxiety. What if this was just a little casual shit to Arthur, and at this point he was expecting Alfred to fuck off? I mean, it's not like he was some kind of experienced awesome blow job giver, so what if Arthur decided he didn't really care for more?

For the first time Alfred almost wished this was happening with a girl. Girls were confusing as hell, but there were usually certain things you could almost always rely on. If Arthur was a girl Alfred would probably just ask him on a date, and then let his actions show his maybe less than casual sex oriented intentions.

He glanced at Arthur again, but maybe not as nonchalantly as he had intended, because Arthur looked back at him. Their eyes met for a second, and Arthur smiled kind of. It was a secret little smile, that was almost a smirk, but not quite. It wasn't bitter at all like a smirk, just happy. But private, like an inside joke, and even if other people could see it, it wasn't meant for them.

Alfred felt a little rush at that look, that little look, Arthur, god. He just wanted him.

Not long after that, Arthur casually pushed away from the counter and sauntered out of the kitchen. Alfred followed along close behind him, and no one really paid them any mind. Arthur went into his room, and mug still in hand, Alfred followed him.

Arthur sat on his bed, and Alfred had a startling moment of closeness with him there. Just seeing Arthur, who he had simply wondered about and know for the last six months, and now Alfred had slept in his bed.

He sat down next to him, and neither spoke.

Alfred wondered what he was thinking about, if maybe he was thinking about what they were gunna do too. He wanted to ask, but it sounded pretty much like something seventeen year old girls do.

Then his stomach rumbled, and he remembered he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon. Which was unacceptable.

"Hey Arthur!" he said brightly, and Arthur looked somewhat startled by it, "Do you guys have any food?"

Arthur thought for a moment before saying, "Well, whatever we have will either be past its expiration date or have Francis or Antonio's name on it. That said, you're still welcome to look mate…"

And with this information, Alfred made a decision. Arthur might not be a girl and he might not actually be getting anywhere with this, but hey. It was worth a shot.

"Nah, that's cool. I don't wanna eat their stuff. Wanna go get something?"

"Ah, I'm pretty much broke but we can probably find something." Arthur answered not missing a beat.

Alfred wanted to do a little fist pump, but thought it might let on to more than he wanted to let on just then. So he settled for a grin instead.

"Awesome! Got anywhere in mind?"

After settling where they would eat, they put on proper clothes and let that now emptier apartment. The day was hot, and they took the bus to a café that Arthur said wasn't too expensive.

And as they stood in the line to order, Alfred wondered he could offer to pay for Arthur's food like it was a real date. Somehow he didn't think he would be allowed to.

They sat at the bar by the window, and watched people walk by on the street outside.

Arthur was wearing shorts that day, something Alfred had never seen him in. He liked the way they looked on him. He had these adorably sexy legs, and he still wore manly shorts or whatever, and guys shoes, but his legs were not burly or manly, not really. Alfred admired them, as he and Arthur sat on their stools at the bar.

Then Arthur cleared his throat. Alfred felt himself blush, and Arthur was raising an eye brow.

His eye brows raised made them look like twice as intimidating, and Alfred had to laugh a little.

"What?" Arthur said, looking even more accusatory.

"Nothing dude, sorry. I didn't mean to space out."

"Oh come off it Alfred, you weren't spacing out, you were checking me out." Arthur snorted.

"Well. Okay. Yeah," Alfred said, knowing he wasn't really much of a subtle guy.

He felt sort of embarrassed because he didn't think Arthur ever checked _him_ out. Did he? Alfred wasn't really much of an observant guy.

They sat in silence for a moment more.

Alfred knew he wasn't subtle, and he knew he was oblivious. He much preferred when people were direct about things. He wasn't going to sit here like this, and just _wonder_ about Arthur's feelings.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked up from his food to meet Alfred's eyes. Alfred's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes?"

Courage, come on Alfred, it's just Arthur right?

Really it was hard because Alfred felt like he had no way to gauge how Arthur would react. Arthur was so. Different.

Well, time to just say whatever he was thinking and hope for the best.

"We're okay right? I mean I know last night was kinda different, and we like messed around and shit or whatever, but it's not a problem right? I mean, I am cool if you are cool. And you know I have never really done shit with dudes before, but that was actually pretty awesome, and I totally wouldn't mind to do it again or whatever, as long as you don't care that I am like not the most experienced person in the world and shit. So like-"

Arthur started laughing.

"Alfred, look, slow down."

Alfred took a deep breath.

"I uh." At that point Arthur started to look a little uncomfortable. "I mean, all that's fine with me Alfred. That sounds. Uh, brilliant, really."

"Oh really? Because I was totally scared that I gave shit blow jobs and you were not gunna want me to talk to you ever again or like, anything, I dunno-"

"Oh. No, you were fine Alfred. Really." Arthur looked out the window, again, as if he wasn't really used to talking about it.

There wasn't too much Alfred wasn't used to talking about. Probably because he liked to talk a lot.

But then again, Arthur had just said that he was fine at giving blow jobs. So maybe his mouth was good for something, ha.

"That's awesome man. Okay. This is fine then, right?"

He wasn't exactly sure what 'this' was.

Arthur was still looking a little awkward and unsure. It was a cute look on him, since he was usually looking so cock sure.

So Alfred leaned over and kissed his cheek. Okay, so maybe that was something you do more with girls, but Arthur did look pretty cute. Not quite like a girl, but kinda.

Arthur then turned to look at him again, his eyes a little wide. Christ, you'd think no one had ever kissed the guy. But then he chuckled a little.

"Jones, you are strange." Arthur said, shaking his head. Alfred wasn't sure why, so he just shrugged.

"It could be worse right?" Alfred said.

"Well, yes, you could be unbearably strange and also a massive idiot," he paused thoughtfully then seemed to realize something "but then, you know actually-"

"Oh shut up Arthur!"

That night, when everything had wound down again, and people began to fade off in their own directions, Alfred sat in the floor with Arthur in front of the TV while Gilbert played video games with some other guys that Alfred didn't really know. He had talked with one of them, this Japanese kid named Kiku, earlier, and he was cool.

But they were getting ready to go, and Alfred looked at Arthur, who sat next to him. He leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"Am I sleeping with you again?"

Arthur grinned at him.

"Only if you want to." He whispered back, but he more breathed in, and his lips brushed against his ear and his face was against Alfred's. He made it pretty hard to think of doing anything but sleeping with him.

"Fuck yeah I do." Alfred said, and grinned back.

When Arthur shut the bed room door behind him, he kissed Alfred hungrily. Alfred liked who he was finding out Arthur was behind closed doors.

He didn't want to go home next day. No, he wanted to stay in the room with Arthur, Arthur all his own.

They fell back onto the bed, steadily losing clothes.

Half naked and half breathless, Alfred held himself up over Arthur who lay beneath him, and he looked down at him. Flushed and wanting, Alfred thought he could look at him like that forever and never be tired of it.

He wondered when he had starting thinking about Arthur and the word 'forever' in the same sentence. How much trouble was he in here? Oh well. He ground down against Arthur and thought about it no more.

They ground against each other, and then Arthurs hand snaked down in between them, and into Alfred's boxers. He gasped a little and Arthur grinned up at him.

When they finally lost all their clothing, again strewn all over Arthur's floor, Alfred was a little nervous again. What if Arthur wanted to do more than what they had done the night before? Alfred could give head, and that was about as far ass he was willing to go at that point. He wasn't sure he was ready for the actual sex kind of stuff yet, because they had only been at this for like a day.

But again, Arthur proved to be steady on. He ran his hands down Alfred's body, kissed his neck, then kissed his mouth.

His hand went back down to Alfred's length, and he began to pump him slowly. Alfred shuttered and leaned into the contact, god it felt good.

"Arthur." He breathed, hoping that Arthur might hear his pleasure in his voice.

"Yes?" Arthur said deviously.

"This is awesome." Alfred said.

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to look like he thought Alfred was lame, but then he let out a little gasp as Alfred reached his tip.

They touched each other until it was Alfred who came first, making a sticky mess between them, and moaning as he did. He did his best to try and keep going on Arthur, but he was struggling, and so Arthur reached his own messy hand and put it over Alfred's, helping him along until Arthur also groaned and came.

They both lay panting for a moment.

"We're all gross…" Alfred said.

"I know, I know, hold on."

Arthur leaned over the bed and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, wiped them off, and then threw it in the general direction of what looked like a laundry basket.

He lay back down beside Alfred. Alfred looked at him, Arthur looked back. His hair was messy and he looked very much like he had just gotten off. But he was maddeningly attractive like that, dopy smile and all.

With a small huff, Arthur rolled over to go to sleep, but let a small smile slip onto his face when Alfred wrapped his arm around him and spooned in close behind him. And they fell asleep like that.


	8. Chapter 8 Little Lion Man

Arthur sat on the couch watching a movie with a beer and really that was not a bad way to spend a night. As the other guys had started getting home they had come in also, squeezing onto the couch one by one.

Francis came first. Spotting what Arthur was up to, he grabbed himself a beer and Arthur another and sat next to him on the couch.

"Hey, this one doesn't suck." Francis commented as he noticed what movie Arthur was watching.

"No, not yet. Don't fucking talk will you?"

"Hmm." Francis hummed in reply.

Antonio came in next, spotted them and sat down.

As they watched the movie, Arthur thought of Alfred. What was he doing right then? Probably playing baseball or doing something else very American with his time. Maybe playing video games. But Arthur wished that he was here with them.

He wished that Alfred was pressed up against his side instead of Francis. He wished that he could know that when he couldn't sleep for that empty feeling about six hours from now he would have Alfred's peaceful face to look at.

He checked his phone, and Alfred still hadn't texted him back. Well that was fine then.

He shut off his phone.

By the time Gilbert joined them they were all three already drunk and onto the next movie. Antonio left when Lovino showed up, and they both defected to their room. Gilbert left, for reasons Arthur was unsure of, and it was just him and Francis.

Arthur felt that impending empty feeling, knew that he would have to face it before he slept. He wouldn't be able to stay drunk until he fell asleep unless he drank himself to sleep.

He knew he was drunk. He could feel the out of focus blur of it, the lightness. Just because he could recognize what he was didn't mean he was able to realize it was the reason he would make a bad decision.

He didn't push Francis off of him when he slumped over.

And he didn't push Francis off when he felt his lips on his neck. No in fact, he drew in a deep breath and stayed put. He might have feebly voiced some him of protest but really, not much.

He let it happen. And then Francis continued, and Arthur continued letting him.

The next thing he knew, they were mostly naked. Arthur had just enough sense left in him to realize they were still in the living room, and that for proprieties sake, he might go to his bed room.

"Francis- ugh ah- Francis, go- go to my room."

They stumbled there, and into Arthur's bed.

Arthur woke the next morning sore and wretched.

Oh god, Francis was in his bed. Oh Christ.

"Get. Out. Of my room now." Arthur said, hitting Francis in the back of the head. He rolled sleepily over.

"Hm? What?"

"Get out of my room." Arthur growled.

"It's funny; the last thing you said to me last night was the exact opposite of that request. Has anyone ever told you how terribly fickle you are Arthur?"

Shit, piss, fuck. How had he let this happen? No, not when everything was just starting to go well, just when. Well. Just when things were starting to look up, and just when Alfred.

Arthur sat up. How to make this right?

"Francis, you are to get out of this room right now, and I swear to god if you ever tell anyone about this, I will castrate you myself."

"Oh what Arthur," Francis said, sitting up also, "Are you worried that your precious Alfred will find out?"

"Oh ho Francis, and you think that Mathew won't find out?"

"No my dear, Mathew knows exactly what goes on here."

Arthur felt his temper waning.

"Oh naturally, my mistake. Everyone knows you for what you are. So ironic it is that you advertise yourself this way, and yet who is it that really wants you Francis? You might sleep in Antonio's bed, but we both know it's Lovino that he wants there. You might have slept with Gilbert, but wasn't that only after he had broken up with Elizabeta? And look at you now." Francis gracefully stood. "Here in my bed because I was too drunk to know what I was doing. And are you ever anything but second best or a mistake to someone Francis? Your lack of dignity disgusts me!" Arthur spat.

But when Francis looked at him, Arthur felt a small twinge of regret. He was so angry and so fucking scared about what he had just done. But what he had just said to Francis didn't make it better. Francis' eyes looked worn, and he almost seemed to slump.

"And what if you are right, hm, Kirkland? Does that make you any better for it?"

And with that he left, leaving Arthur feeling the worst he had in months.

Even hours later when he finally left his room and found his phone, he didn't feel better when he saw that Alfred had texted him. No, he felt worse.

After all that, what was he supposed to say? There was nothing.

He didn't see Francis for a few days.

"Arthur, where have you been? Where's Francis? I haven't seen either of you in a few days." Antonio casually commented when Arthur finally caved and sulked into the kitchen for something to eat or drink or anything. He had hardly left his room in a couple of days.

"Dunno where the bastard is. I've just been in there." Arthur mumbled and then grabbed a bag of crisps from the cabinet, ignoring whoever's name was written on them and retreated once more.

Alfred idly picked up his phone once again. He sighed loudly when he saw he had no new messages, and threw it back down onto his bed.

It had been two days since he had heard from Arthur. What the hell was wrong? Had Alfred pissed him off some how? Times like this where the only time that Alfred lamented his over-active imagination. A myriad of options played behind his eyes, every time he let himself become distracted. Arthur was angry with him for not texting him back that night (Alfred had had a game, otherwise he would have!) or Arthur had lost his phone, or Arthur had been kidnapped, or Arthur had decided he hated him now.

All of those seemed likely enough.

It was mid August by then. Alfred would be going back to school soon, and he really wanted to be able to look forward to being back around Arthur again. He wanted to be day dreaming about all the things that they might do once Alfred was back in the city and at school. But instead he was worrying about this.

He flopped down on his bed, face down, and didn't move. Outside of his window, he heard the cicadas as they buzzed, and the mourning doves that sang. There was a far off lawn mower being run that faintly reached his ears. It was all so summery, and he thought that in times past, it would have made him very happy. But now all he felt was sad.

He had spent almost the whole summer doing things that he usually loved, like playing baseball and swimming and being outside, but it wasn't the same. His thoughts always went back to fun had late at night with people he had come to know, the high feeling of escape, and Arthur.

God, he hated how much they had ruined all this for him. He had had all summer here, and he just spent most of it wanting to go back.

He had been texting Mattie a lot more, to take his mind off it. Mattie had asked about Arthur, and Alfred had mentioned that he hadn't heard from him lately. Mattie had just said not to worry about it. But it wasn't that easy.

Stupid Arthur.

He checked his phone. Nothing. He had texted Arthur several times in the past couple of days. Nothing.

_That's it. I give up. _

He pressed the talk button, and called Arthur's number. Was this what it was like to have it bad?

Arthur lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He had been there since he had returned from work that afternoon. He lay on his back, unable to bring himself to move. No, not right now.

He took a deep breath.

Why was he just a fucking idiot? Why was he always fucking up?

Then his phone started ringing.

Alfred.

Should he answer? What would he say? What would- he panicked.

"Hullo?" he answered thickly.

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice, so sweet, so bright. Arthur felt like someone sitting in a dark room that had just had thick curtains forcibly parted, throwing everything into light.

"Yes, it's me."

"Oh, hey! How are you! I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I know, my apologies. I'm alright. How are you?"

"I'm good! What are you up to?"

"Oh, well, I just got back from work, incidentally."

"Oh. So you've been pretty busy huh?"

Arthur leapt on the excuse.

"Oh, yes. Very. I dunno what's been going on, but I have had a ton to do. Sorry if I've not been too available."

"No dude, it's cool. I was calling because I haven't heard from you in a while or whatever, but it's no big deal. What's been going on at the apartment?"

"Ah well, you know, the usual rot. How've you been there?"

"Oh, I'm good! We had another game the other day, and we won! You should have seen it, it was awesome! We…"

Alfred went into a detailed description of his latest baseball game, and Arthur felt a huge weight steadily lift from him. Alfred would never have to know, and Alfred wasn't angry with him, and they were fine, it was not going to be problem, there were no problems.

He let out a little sigh.

Mathew picked up his phone, and looked at his newest text.

Francis: can i ask u something?

That was strange, and Mathew felt his curiosity spark. Francis rarely came to him like this, and whatever this was would undoubtedly be interesting somehow. He quickly responded.

Mathew: sure

Francis: what do you think of me?

When Mathew picked up his phone, he led it still for a second, simply looking at it. Why would Francis ask such a question? He was never like that, never unsure or forward like that. What had happened?

And furthermore what, what was he supposed to say? I love you, and I have almost always loved you, I'm sorry that I am not worth enough to you for you to stop sleeping around, and that's the only reason I don't ever try and get close to you? You are beautiful but I can't trust you with everything that I am because I don't know what you would ever do with it?

He could be honest, or. Well, or he could just play it safe.

Mathew: i think youre wonderful. Whats wrong?

Francis didn't text back for little while.

In the mean time, Alfred had been texting him almost nonstop. Which was also sort of strange. What was he now, a refuge for insecure men?

Alfred said that Arthur hadn't been texting him.

Francis replied about an hour later.

Francis: thank you. Im fine, kirklands a bitch.

Ah. So they had had a fight? Or something had happened?

But what would have happened that would keep Arthur from talking to Alfred also?

Mathew tried to think. He was at his computer in this parent's living room, on facebook, just passing the time.

He leaned back in his chair.

So Francis was having a crisis of self worth, which was somehow Arthur's fault, and Arthur was now not speaking to Alfred. But why wouldn't he-

Oh god. They had slept together. Mathew leaned forward to hit his head on the desk.

No fucking way.

Mathew: did you sleep with him?

Francis: sometimes, you are eerily perceptive

Mathew: are you serious? Why would you sleep w/ him?

Francis: well. It seemed like a good idea at the time

Mathew: w/e I don't see it but thats fine

Francis: lets not talk about it shall we?

Mathew: gladly.

But now he was faced with a dilemma. How did he go on knowing this, and not say a word to Alfred? Alfred, who most certainly would never find out.

Alfred shouldn't have to put up with dicks like them. Honestly, Mathew wished he didn't have to either, sometimes. Both of them had their issues, but they didn't really compare to those two.

In the end, Mathew supposed it was none of his business. He would let it fall where it fell.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the views and reviews! I can't tell you how happy it makes me :) That being said, I feel like I should answer a few of you...

Altec: Don't worry about Mattie... He'll come around I think...

Axxi: I really tried! I think there's a lot more depth there than we usually see, and I can only imagine that regardless of the fact that he is a notorious pervert, he would suffer some consequences emotionally for his actions. I'm glad you picked it up though!

Crocious: Yeah, I'm sure the poor kid would appreciate it. And we'll see about what his reaction is, just because we haven't seen Alfred's temper yet doesn't mean he doesn't have one...But there are a lot of assholes aren't there?

TheNinjaWangster: Yeah, he really is. I know. And Alfred is naive, but he isn't stupid ya know? Don't worry about, Arthur will get his.

Teenage Mouse: Yeah, I so glad you enjoyed it that much! I love to know what quotes you pulled out from this :) I think Arthur has learned his lesson, don't you? And it's not so much that he forgot Alfred, he just gets depressed, and then runs from it with substance abuse, which makes him make bad decisions, which makes him more depressed. See a pattern?

And that's too all my other reviewers also, I'm sorry I haven't been responding prior to this chapter... I will try to now though! Well, on to the next chapter I suppose. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think! Time for some Arthur guilt :3 /rubs hands together evilly

* * *

That semester was gunna be hell, Alfred could already tell; first week back to classes and he was already half dead.

Alfred woke up a little to the sound of Mathew's alarm.

"Mattie make it stop…" he moaned and rolled over. He fell back asleep until his own went off about fifteen minutes later. Growling a little, Alfred shuttered under his covers, loath to leave them, but his alarm rang from his phone on his desk. Finally he threw his covers off, got his feet tangled in them, and fell out of bed.

Swearing loudly, he shut his alarm off.

Mathew was already dressed and sitting casually on his laptop and eating a bagel. Their classes started at the same time, but Mathew was the kind of guy who would wake up earlier to eat breakfast and check facebook before he went to class. Alfred just didn't have it in him. He would much rather get on facebook and check his email on his phone during class.

He stumbled around for a couple minutes, trying to remember what he needed to do before he went to class.

Get dressed; maybe eat something, should he shower? No, there wasn't time. Oh well. Get his books; get his phone, wallet, okay.

He threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie over the t-shirt he had already been wearing and then grabbed a cold piece of pizza out of the mini-fridge.

"You're so gross Al." Matt said, observing him over the top of his laptop.

Alfred just shrugged. It took at lot of work to do all the things he got done, and sometimes he didn't have time for the other stuff. Like ya know, showers or new shirts or something. But that was okay.

He grabbed his backpack while Mathew shut his laptop and shoved it in his own backpack, and they left the dorm together. Walking side by side, Mathew told him about this freaky dream he had had last night, and Alfred told him he thought it might be a good plot for a movie, and Mathew laughed and said he always said that.

They waved at people they knew from classes or parties as they walked until they had to split up and go to their separate buildings.

"Okay Mattie, see ya!"

"Later Al."

"Oh, Matt!" Alfred turned around from where he had been walking away and yelled back at Matt.

"What?" Mathew answered, turning around.

"You going to the apartment tonight?" He didn't need to specify beyond that.

"Oh, I dunno, were you gunna?" Alfred wasn't sure why Mathew frowned; it looked like he was thinking about it more than Alfred was expecting him to. Did he not want to go? Whatever.

Alfred grinned.

"Yeah. I wanted to go see Arthur."

"Okay, let's go at five, meet you at the room."

"Sweet! Bye Matt

Internally, Mathew cringed. It would be the first time he would have seen Arthur and Francis since after he found out about their little liaison that summer. What was he supposed to do, hm? Act like he didn't know? Let Arthur lie to his best friend so Alfred wouldn't leave him?

It would totally crush Alfred.

Mathew sighed.

When they arrived at the apartment, and let themselves in, it was not as rambunctious as usual. They made their way down the hall way and into the living room, where Arthur sat on his lap top, papers and notebooks around him. Alfred couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed like something was weird, because usually Mathew would have greeted Arthur, been glad to see him after all summer at home.

Mattie didn't though, he just looked gave Arthur this weird look, then turned and left. Alfred shrugged and walked over to drape himself over the couch next to Arthur.

"What's his deal?" he asked. He didn't really think it was a big thing, or anything, he just thought he might ask…

But Arthur looked oddly thoughtful for a moment.

Then he shrugged.

"Haven't the foggiest…" he said slowly, but he still looked like he was trying to figure it out. Alfred shrugged it off.

He had had to bring his homework with him that night to the apartment, because he had too much to just ignore it until whenever he made it home that night, if he even made it home at all. So Alfred sat on the couch reading while Arthur hacked out a paper on his lap top.

It was awfully distracting to sit next to him. Or be in the same room as him. Or be in the same city as him.

He had never really felt so pulled in by someone before; he had never felt so magnetized.

Every once in a while he would look up from his paper and catch Arthur looking at him. Then Arthur would avert his gaze quickly, but he was smiling. Alfred would be looking at him, and he figured he might as well enjoy it, so he would stare at him in return until Arthur looked up at him questioningly, and he might seem irritated or tell Alfred to get back to work but then he would smile at him and Alfred could happily forget his work.

That night, Arthur didn't finish his paper until about 3:00 and Alfred have given up reading at 1:00 so after trying to distract Arthur from his work for about another hour, Alfred fell asleep. Arthur had needed to focus on writing, and had kept brushing Alfred off, which made him pout and huff, but he did finally give in.

Arthur sighed. He hadn't heard Mathew leave, but he knew he must have. He had walked in with Alfred, and given Arthur this look. This look that seemed to convey knowledge, a warning and distinct dislike and distrust in less than five seconds of eye contact.

Could he possibly know? Arthur wondered. And if so, how? Had Francis told him? Would he tell Alfred? Arthur felt his stomach churn.

God how he hated himself for this.

He looked at Alfred, who had fallen asleep on the couch next to him, and wretched. He reached out slowly, and ran a hand though Alfred's hair. It was so soft…

He emailed his paper to his professor, shut his laptop, and stood. Hell he was sleeping on this couch, but if Alfred was sleeping here, there was no way Arthur was sleeping alone.

Gently, he reached out and shook Alfred's shoulder.

"Hey Alfred, let's go to my room, alright?" he said. Alfred moved a little, and looked like he was trying to wake up but wasn't quite making it. Arthur sighed.

"Come on fat ass," he said, and pulled one of Alfred's arms around his shoulders to lift him from the couch. "Up you go."

After a bit of a struggle and very little help from the half conscious Alfred, Arthur got him out of his shoes and jeans and into his bed. After undressing himself he joined him. Once in bed, Arthur stared at his ceiling. Guilt gnawed at him, and over and over in his head played scenes of what Alfred might do upon finding out, or what would happen. He lay tormented for an uncertain amount of time, before he felt Alfred stir next to him.

"Hey honey, go to sleep." Alfred murmured, and snuggled closer to him, then threw one leg over Arthur's. He was warm and soft.

What on earth had he ever done to deserve someone like this?


	10. Chapter 10 While We Have the Sun

So this wound up being more like three very very short chapters rounded up in one, so sorry if the continuity sucks. Enjoy anyways?

* * *

A month into school, when Alfred stood on the train still sort of hung over and sore, he began to accept that this year would be different for him. His head hurt, he wasn't wearing underwear or one of his socks, and he was going to be at least five minutes late to a class he hadn't finished the homework for. But damn had last night been awesome.

He stood leaning against one of the poles of the train headed towards his campus, trying to at least skim the assigned reading. The city looked cleaner in the morning, he thought. The train shuttled over the bridge, and the sunlight bounced off the water and some of the boats. Despite his somewhat uncomfortable circumstances, Alfred couldn't help but to be deliriously happy. He checked his phone and texted Arthur one more time before he went to class.

Alfred:

Did you find my boxers?

Arthur:

Does that mean youre not wearing any?

Alfred:

Yes?

Arthur:

Haha. Well then.

Alfred:

What? Y is that funny

Arthur:

Im just thinking about you sitting in class w/o underwear on thats all.

Alfred:

Dont you have to go to school or something?

Arthur: im on my way pet, don't worry. You get to your own class, hm? C you later.

And Alfred found himself grinning at his phone even as got off the train and saw he was at least seven minutes late. He tried to imagine how Arthur would act showing up late to class, but couldn't really picture it. Arthur wasn't usually late to things. Alfred was usually late to things. Arthur went to a different university, one Alfred wasn't sure if he could have gotten into, and if so he wasn't sure he would have wanted to go there. He just liked messing around with computers and he wasn't as keen on all the liberal arts stuff, because he didn't know if he could pass some of those other courses.

He ducked into the back of his class, because the professor already had a power point open and got out his notes, but he thought about Arthur the whole period.

Alfred secretly couldn't wait for Halloween. It was such a kick ass holiday. He loved it as a kid, and it never really went away. Arthur didn't share his particular enthusiasm, but Alfred was convinced that he could be swayed. He would see. Alfred had some trouble choosing what he would be that year, and if he had more time on his hands he would be trying to get a new costume, but he didn't really have the time or money for that. So the costume from his senior year it was. He liked his cow boy costume because first of all, cow boys were awesome, but at the same time kind of hot.

The party they were going to was going to be at the house of this kid who was the little brother of this Italian that Antonio had been hanging around with for a while. Alfred thought they were pretty cool, and their house was sweet. The younger one, Feliciano, was an art student and Alfred wasn't really sure what Lovino did, other than bitch at Antonio. But Feliciano was cool, and they had a cool apartment by one of the city's biggest art schools.

He was supposed to be meeting with people at the party, because he had had to stay late at the lab. He checked his phone as he left his dorm, only to be surprised by a fairly cryptic text from Mathew.

Mathew:

They got Arthur smashed. You ve been warned.

Alfred:

What? What does that mean?

But he didn't get an answer. Christ, it was only nine, how had Arthur gotten smashed already? And why?

He just tried not to think about it and got on the T headed towards the Vargas' apartment.

He arrived to find most of the people he expected to see already there. There were some awesome costumes too. After getting something to drink he set off in search of the answer to whatever Mathew had been talking about.

When drunk, Arthur was pretty good at making a spectacle of himself. Alfred knew that there was a limit, and once past it, Arthur could be coerced into a criminal amount of things.

So when he found Arthur dressed in a revealing toga made of bed sheet, feathery wings and gladiator sandals (where had those even come from?) while trying to get into a fight with Antonio (dressed as a matador!), who was trying to talk him out of dancing on top of a table, he found himself turning his glare to Francis (dressed, appropriately, as a devil).

Francis, it seemed, also knew about Arthur's limit. He was red in the face from laughing, and Alfred knew that he had probably gotten Arthur drunk so that he could get him to dress up. If his memory served, Arthur and Francis had been arguing some time earlier that week and Francis had something grimly foreshadowing along the lines of 'You'll be dressing up this year, you'll see' after Arthur had said that he would rather die.

He was also unsure if he should be more worried that Francis knew know to pull something like this off, that he would actually do it, or that this knowledge was in the hands of Francis, notorious pervert. Well, now was not the time to contemplate.

"You're a douche." He said to Francis as he tried to make his way to Arthur. Francis caught sight of him, and raised his eye brows.

"What have we here cowboy." Alfred felt like squirming under the way Francis' eyes raked over him.

"Alright, whatever." And he brushed past him.

"Arthur." He said and collected him away from Antonio. "Sorry about him." He said to Antonio. Antonio for his part didn't look like he was too interested in fighting with Arthur about whatever it had been that Arthur was yelling about.

"Oh no problem Alfred. I think he's just drank too much."

"Yeah, ya think? Blame Francis." Antonio just laughed. He could be so chill, it was hard for Alfred to remember that he could actually be scary if he wanted to. According to Francis, Antonio and Arthur had actually gotten into some serious fights before.

"Alfred!" Arthur said, struggling in Alfred's arms to turn and face him. If Alfred wasn't so pissed at Francis for being a freak, he might have been able to better appreciate the fact that Arthur was dressed as an angel for Halloween. "Alfred, when did you get here?"

"Just now. What happened?" Alfred asked, freeing him.

"What do you mean, what happened?" Arthur was grinning giddily at him, and stumbled when Alfred let go of him.

"I mean why are you- never mind. You know what? Don't worry about it babe."

"Okay." Arthur replied happily. Then Arthur noticed Alfred a little better. Alfred could tell because he had this pervy kind of smile he got when he was being a horny old bastard. He just looked Alfred up and down, then reached behind him and squeezed his ass. "Come 'ere you."

Arthur pounced on him a little, but it was nothing Alfred couldn't handle. They had started making out, but Arthur kept sort of falling over, and in the end Alfred was just holding him.

On the one hand, Alfred wanted to get plastered too so that Arthur wouldn't get all the fun, but at the same time he knew that to do so would leave them totally defenseless and vulnerable. Well, in the end, his better judgment didn't win out. They could sleep there, he didn't have class the next morning, and it would be fine.

A couple of beers, several shots and a couple of things he didn't really remember later, they were both sprawled in a bean bag chair. With their bodies pressed close like that, Alfred really wanted to be messing around more, but they were also in a room full of people. It was a room of people who were mostly doing similar things, but all the same, there was Arthur, looking like a wet dream in an angel costume, and he was clinging to Alfred and going back and forth rapidly between bitching about things and laughing hysterically.

Arthur leaned in and kissed him, and then rolled over so he was sort of on top of him, and then he was kissing and grinding. Alfred quivered with it, and ground back up against him. Arthur pulled away and kept Alfred's face in his hands, and looked down at him.

"I wanna fuck you." He said.

Despite how drunk he was, Alfred felt the words shoot through him. Yeah, he kind of wanted Arthur to fuck him too.

"You do?" was all Alfred managed to breathe out.

" Yeah, I do. All the time." Arthur said in return, grinning.

"Oh." Alfred said, excitement blooming within him. "Yeah, I pretty think about it all the time too. I guess we should do that sometime, huh?"

"Oh, that's exactly what I wanted to hear." Arthur growled, and returned to kissing him.

They lay in the beanbag chair for an amount of time that Alfred wasn't really able to measure, before getting up for more drinks, drinking, then vomiting not long after. Alfred remembered Arthur holding his head, pulling his hair back, and then rubbing slow circles in his back, soothingly. Despite this discomfort, Arthur somehow made it somewhat better. He didn't remember all too well what might have happened after that, but presumably they passed out somewhere. Alfred woke up to peel his face off Arthur's shoulder where it had been resting.

Arthur lay still asleep next to him, still dressed as an angel. Alfred was still in his cowboy costume for the most part, although he had lost his hat at some point.

It looked like it was probably about 11:30 a.m. for the light. There were plenty of other people passed out around the room, laying here or there on things. Alfred supposed he should feel lucky that he and Arthur had laid claim to the bean bag chair.

As he lay there, he tried to think back through the nights events. Nothing catastrophic had happened, other than when he had first gotten there.

But. Arthur did casually mention wanting to fuck him.

In all, it didn't really surprise him. That was sort of just what people did. In fact, he might have been a bit insulted in Arthur wasn't interested in fucking him. But he had brought it up, almost like he was asking for permission. Did that mean he would? They had messed around, but Arthur never pushed it. Alfred was actually a little grateful for that. All this guy stuff was still pretty weird, he still wasn't sure about how he felt about taking it in the ass.

He wondered how bad it would be, or if it would be really bad at all, or if it would be totally worth it, or-. Well. It was probably best not to let his imagination run away with him.

When Arthur drowsily came to, he cussed up a storm about how badly his head hurt, and whined about wanting to sleep in a real bed, and swore he would never drink again. Alfred laughed him off and they dragged their feet back to Arthur's apartment, only to sleep the day away.

All humans have a weakness. Alfred's was horror movies.

That was alright, as far as weakness's go. Mathew had seen worse. But Alfred seemed to have trouble living with it. So when he asked Mathew to watch one with him, he didn't really think about it.

But Alfred screamed, cried, jumped, and whimpered the entire time. Mathew may or may not have taken a bit of video on his cell phone for later (possible blackmail) use.

And when it was finished, Alfred was still whimpering and asking if Mathew would sleep with him, because otherwise he would never be able to fall asleep. Mathew just laughed and climbed into Alfred's bed, where they talked about outer space and mountain bikes until Alfred fell asleep. The dorm's beds were small, and cramped, and Alfred was like a furnace or something, but Mathew slept well enough to be getting on with, and after the initial awkwardness of sharing a bed, he settled down and slept.

The next morning, Mathew woke up before Alfred, and Alfred was still asleep, so Mathew simply lay there. He hadn't sleep perfectly, since Alfred wasn't the easiest bed mate, but he felt rested enough. Then he heard a knock on their door. Before he could answer, it opened, just a crack, and Mathew was looking into Arthur's eyes.

Why didn't they ever lock their doors? Mathew silently bemoaned.

Arthur seemed to look at him, then at the bed he was in and Alfred. Alfred had heard the knock, and blearily opened his eyes.

"Hey…" he said sleepily, and then realized where he was, and what it must look like, and saw the look the Arthur's face. "Oh."

Then Arthur slammed the door.

Alfred propelled out of the bed.

"Oh shit, Matt, he thinks- fuck, Mattie, I'll be right back, I gotta go talk to him, shit-" Alfred said, scrambling around.

Mathew felt something darken within him, and then he made a decision.

"Hey Alfred, man, calm down okay? He just misunderstood, don't worry about it. You're freaking out, let me go talk to him okay? Just chill for a sec, I'm sure he'll understand. Deep breaths dude." Then Mathew was out the door, walking quickly until he caught Arthur at the end of the hall.

"Hey. Wait a fucking second."

Arthur spun around, looking like he was about to commit homicide.

"What do you want-"

"Where the hell do you think you get off Arthur?" Mathew spat.

"No Mathew, why don't you tell me where _you_ get off, I just walked in on-"

"Oh give me a fucking break Kirkland, you didn't walk in on shit. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself; we watched Saw last night, and you know what Alfred is like, so for fuck's sake, don't even stand there feeling all angry and self pitying, or even self righteous." Mathew said, acid dripping from his words. So, he was angry. It didn't happen too often. Arthur growled at him. "Oh I'm sorry, I did I take away your redemption Arthur?" Then Arthur paused for one moment to look mildly perplexed. "Yeah, I bet you were feeling pretty goddamn good about yourself for a minute there weren't you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Arthur asked, looking angry again.

"Well, if Alfred slept with me, maybe you could feel a little better about sleeping with Francis right? You could feel a little better, knowing he did the same thing."

Arthur turned white as a sheet.

"Yeah, I know about that. And the only reason I didn't tell Alfred is because I didn't actually think I would be doing him any favors. But don't think for one fucking second I didn't think about it."

"You wouldn't-" Arthur started, still looking positively malicious.

"Oh no, don't think I wouldn't. Because I really would. You don't deserve him. Fuck, you don't deserve him. But he wants you. So become someone he can deserve. Make yourself into someone worth his time, and I won't tell him. But I am tired of all your goddamn bullshit. You don't get your fucking act together, I swear to god I will tell him. Have a nice fucking day, Arthur." And with that Mathew turned on his heel, every nerve in his body thrumming with the thrill of excitement, and walked back into his and Alfred's room.

"Hey Al, I explained everything to him." Matt said, sitting down in the bed. Alfred looked like a worried mess, and Mathew felt bad for him.

Mathew thought he might still be shaking.

"Oh, what did he say? Is he pissed? Where'd he go?"

"Oh, he was just running by to say he wasn't gunna be able to hang out today anyway, but I'm sure you can text. I talked to him, he said everything was cool."

Alfred sighed with relief.

"Oh thanks man, I know I would have been totally freaking and said all the wrong shit and pissed him off even more. You're totally awesome man, thanks!"

"No problem Alfred, I just thought maybe it was best if I talked to him. Don't worry about it, alright?"

Arthur had stood at the end of the hall of their dorm, shocked, after Mathew had left. He was literally rooted to the spot, completely blown away. What the hell had that just been?

He had put in his headphone on the train, trying to think about anything, anything but what Mathew had just said to him.

So naturally, it was the only thing he could think of; but he wasn't thinking about Mathew knowing, and he wasn't embarrassed by his misunderstanding and subsequent reaction. No, there was a single sentence ringing though his head.

…_become someone he can deserve. _

He had never thought of himself as someone Alfred deserved. Alfred deserved a well endowed girl who was on the path to a good career, who wanted to have three healthy babies with him, and wanted a nice house in a good neighborhood. Arthur had always blamed Alfred for his poor taste in picking someone like himself. He knew he wasn't ideal.

But he never saw it as his own fault; he never saw it as something he could change or control, or even something that he should. Alfred was a golden boy, and Arthur was a prick, but Alfred stuck with him anyways. What was he supposed to do about it?

Well, Mathew's words rang though his head once more.

Lost in thought, Arthur pondered this all the way back across the city, thinking about what it meant to be deserving.

* * *

And there you have it. Mathew takes action. And Halloween, because I couldn't resist... Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11 Stray Italian Greyhound

To my beautiful, wonderful reviewers...

Crocious: I know I think Mattie can be badass sometimes... He just needs a good reason. And Alfred might be too oblivious for that, but Francis will come to see the light ;)

lilsandstorm: /;w;/ thank you! I am so glad... and that means a lot to me...

Axxi: Yeah, nothing like a drunken Arthur. But there's a lot more where that came from...

Alphine: Well, I hope it wasn't too ooc... I think Mattie is just a little protective... And yeah.

rae1112: Yes, but Arthur is a big scaredy cat.

SisterFriend: Oh! Thank you so much! I am really glad you like it!

And onward to the (small) chapter... (and just so you guys know I will probably update with a bigger, more developing chapter in a little bit... they just didn't go together...)

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"Arthur, man, this shit is fucking disgusting." Alfred said, looking from a safe distance at the sink in the filthy kitchen.

Arthur sighed. He knew it was disgusting. Those dishes had been there since…well, he really wasn't sure.

"Let's wash them."Alfred said. He looked resolute.

"What?" Arthur asked, sure he had misheard.

"Let's wash them. There's never anything to eat off of, so let's wash them."

"You obviously don't understand what kind of an undertaking something like this is. Besides, have you looked in there?"

But a determined Alfred was dangerous and brave creature, and five minutes later found Alfred washing while Arthur dried and put away.

While they washed they were talking about classes, which was dangerous, because there were some things they just didn't understand about each other.

"What do you mean you've never heard of Oscar Wilde?"

"I dunno dude, I don't know who that is."

"How can you not know- okay. How about H.G. Wells? He wrote science fiction, he is the father of science fiction, honestly-"

"Look, I have read Harry Potter, what the hell else do you want dude?"

"Alfred, you twat, there's a whole lot more to literature than Harry Potter, and while I'm not disagreeing with how wonderful they may or may not be, you still don't-"

Then Alfred splashed him with the dishwater, and it was all downhill from there. Arthur started trying to whip Alfred with his dish towel, and in retaliation Alfred pulled out the spraying hose from the sink. Arthur, knowing he was a dead man, rapidly changed his approach. He grabbed the front of Alfred's shirt, and kissed him like he was dying. Alfred met him with equal or more amounts of force, and pushed Arthur back into the counter. So there they stood, both relatively well dampened, soapy and messy, making out on the counter.

Which was where Gilbert found them. He made a disgusted sound.

"Aw sick!" he said when he first saw them there, then almost turned once like he was going to leave before turning around again.

"Get a room for Christ's sake."

Arthur just laughed at him, and returned to kissing Alfred heartily.

* * *

And I know this is really short, the next one will be really long but this didn't really fit with it, so it's by it's self...

So, there was the chapter I suppose. Oh, and um, I drew what the floor plan to the apartment is, just in case you were curious, or it helps you figure out how things happen there... http: /oi54 .tinypic . com /2mc625t. jpg and just take out the spaces... I hope that works...

Any way, happy 4th of July tomorrow! People here are already setting off fireworks... I can't wait! And as always, thank you so much for reading!


	12. Chapter 12 All Day and All of the Night

Reviewers, seriously I love you guys. Thank you so much, it always helps me to hear from you guys! You're so wonderful!

crocious: Of course I talked to you! You are a lovely reviewer! 3 And don't misunderstand Alfred, it isn't that he wanted to do dishes, he just wanted to be able to have something to eat off of. I love my fatty. Oh, and Stray Italian Greyhound is a song by Vienna Teng, all the chapter titles of the story are songs that relate to the story or the chapter they are the title of... I guess I forgot to list the artist last time...but yeah, you should look up the lyrics because they are awesome!

Axxi: Thank you! And grumbling at the pub I believe is an appropriate 4th of July activity... lol.

Alphine: Thanks! I know it was short, but I wanted to post something, and sometimes they are so cute so...

AcidicMilk: ; w ; thank you I am so glad you like! I will be keeping up the epic work as much as possible! I have actually written way ahead on this story... so I need to start posting more! And any review is welcome, I am just glad you let me know how much you like it!

* * *

He knew that at some point he would need to stop avoiding talking to his mother about what was happening in his steadily more ridiculous life. Every time he decided he wanted to talk to her, something else would happen that he knew he would have to lie to her about when they next talked.

Arthur was the biggest thing. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about Arthur. It was that he didn't want her to react badly to Arthur. If he thought she would take it well, he would have talked to her months ago. And if he had thought any one would be happy for him, he probably would have realized how he felt months before he did.

His mother did call one afternoon, her voice always cheerful. It was early November, and he knew that all would be easier for him if he eased her into this. If he could help her adjust to the idea of Arthur before he came home, it would make his life much easier.

"Alfred, baby! How are you sweetheart?"

"I'm good mom. How are you?"

"I'm great honey. Everything here is just fine. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Not much going on here. I'm just doing my thing."

The small talk was very typical for his mom, and they spoke of not much at all for about ten minutes before the conversation became serious.

"So how are your friends? How's Mathew?"

"He's good. We are still hanging out a lot. I spend a lot of time with Arthur too."

"Oh you've told me about Arthur before. You met any ladies you like yet honey?"

"Well that's the thing mom. I mean, I dunno, there are some girls here, but they are all pretty boring. I mean, I talked to some girls last year, remember? But they were all pretty lame. Or they did a lot of drugs or something. But like I said, I have been spending a lot of time around Arthur, and that's been…" he trailed off, desperately hoping she would connect the dots and follow him to where he was trying to lead her.

She was quiet for a moment.

"Well, what do you mean?"

"Well. Okay, I dunno mom, I mean I guess I kind of like Arthur? It's hard to explain."

"What?" She didn't sound mad, or confused. Her tone was neutral, as if she simply wanted his to say it again, or be more clear.

"Yeah. I mean, I have been spending a lot of time with Arthur this year, and a lot lately, and I like him a lot. Uh, kind of as more than a friend."

"But you're not gay sweetheart." His mom said like she was pointing out a serious flaw in his statement. Which, she kinda was, but. Yeah.

"I know where you are coming from on that mom, but I am saying that I really like him. I was surprised too, ya know? I am not gay, and I was really confused at first, but I like him a lot, and I like him the same way that I would like a girl."

"Alfred, I don't understand. If you aren't gay, then it doesn't make sense that you would like another man."

"Well, I know, but-"

"Is this just some phase honey, just some infatuation or experimentation you are going though?" Her tone was patient, like she thought she could help him reason his way out of this, and the feeling of being belittled bothered him terribly.

"I don't know mom! No! It's just how I feel! Look, it doesn't have to make sense to you for it to be real for me okay?"

"Alright Alfred. Alright. Calm down. We are going to be talking more about this when you come home for Thanksgiving. Speaking of which, your father and I will be bringing the truck in to the city a couple days before school gets out, so you can drive it back…"

And from there the topic was dropped. Alfred could tell that his mother wasn't really ready to hear him. They made their plans for Thanksgiving and got off the phone. Alfred immediately texted Arthur and started trying to find his keys and got his coat.

Alfred:

Talked to my mom about us. Ugh. Can I come over?

Arthur:

Really? How did it go? And sure.

Alfred:

Not awesome.

He didn't text again, and arrived at Arthur house about half and hour later.

He let himself in and slumped into Arthur's room, where he was reading on his bed. He looked up at Alfred and his expression softened. He patted the bed next to him, and Alfred dumped his jacket on the floor before joining him.

"What'd she say?"

Alfred scoffed bitterly.

"She says I'm not gay, so obviously it's just a phase. And I don't want to be like 'No mom, this isn't a phase, this is who I really am'" Alfred said with a falsely high voice, as if imitating a teenage girl. "But she was acting like it was some fucking little problem she could fix as soon as she had her chance to feed me a home cooked meal and get me out of the city."

Arthur reached over, somewhat hesitantly, and held his hand. And although Alfred had noticed the hesitance, the fact that he had worked thought it and made the gesture warmed him.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Uh, no shit. I mean, I didn't know what to say to her. It's not like I have some super convincing argument set up. What am I supposed to say? I have taken a girl to every school dance; I have had girl friends, and never mention boys, other than you, to her ever."

Arthur didn't look at him. For some reason he felt like it bothered Arthur in a similar way that it bothered his mother.

"I don't know."Arthur murmured.

"Yeah, well she gave up talking about it; I think she is thinking that I will grow out of it before Thanksgiving."

"You would think your own parents would be acquainted with your impossible stubbornness at the very least." Arthur said his tone a little lighter and joking.

"Haha, yeah, right?" Alfred wasn't really comfortable talking about it. He didn't have the words to explain it to anyone. For some reason, no one here judged him, or questioned him, or pressed the issue. They just accepted it. He might get teased by Gilbert or whomever every once and a while, but what did that really matter?

Right then he just wanted to be with Arthur and have some company. Because it was that or go get wasted and forget about it, and he still had homework to do. So they watched a movie and then he went home.

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, the kind where you can't make yourself do shit except lie around, Arthur and Alfred had spent their time lying around Arthur's room. They lay in Arthur bed, Alfred on his laptop and Arthur reading a book. The afternoon sun filtered through Arthur's window, although it did little to melt the November chill.

"Oh man, I am so stoked for Thanksgiving!"

"Hm." Arthur nodded, not really looking up from his book.

"It's gunna be mad awesome. I'm gunna get to go home and eat food and do nothing!"

"Eat and sit around, your favorite things." Arthur said sarcastically.

"Shut up Arthur, you know it's the best holiday"

"Not really. We don't celebrate it in England, so it's not as if I have much experience with it."

"Oh fuck that's right, you don't. Wait, you are going to be here all alone over Thanksgiving, aren't you?"

Arthur looked up at him, eye brows raised.

"Well, yes. It's not as if I am going to be buying a plane ticket back to England for a week."

"Oh. Well. Will you be lonely?"

Arthur frowned a little.

"No, not really. It's nothing I can't handle. You know most people are capable of being by themselves."

Alfred didn't really like to be alone. He would much rather be with other people, and so it always surprised him how much other people would protest loneliness.

Besides, he thought most people actually did get lonely, they would just try to keep you from knowing it. He knew Arthur got lonely. He would get texts from a time when he knew Arthur should have been asleep, saying not much of anything at all that would usually clue him into the fact that Arthur was not sleeping, and wanted someone to talk to.

"I know dude. But like. I don't know. Do you want me to stay here with you?"

Arthur seemed taken aback by the offer, but recovered.

"No! Absolutely not. Alfred, you were just talking about how excited you were to go home, and how much you were looking forward to it. How could I let you stay here?"

Hm. He had a point, Alfred supposed.

"Okay! Well you can come home with me if you want!"

"What?" Arthur looked even more startled. "Do you really thing that would be a good idea?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Well, it's just that-" Arthur set him book down on the night stand, and rolled over on his side so that he was facing Alfred. "Alfred, think about this please. Your mother and father probably wouldn't want me there."

"Well, why don't I talk to my mom about it, okay?"

Arthur looked hesitant.

"Arthur, it would be fun! You could see my house, and get to meet my family, and have an American Thanksgiving! And you wouldn't have to stay here all by yourself!"

"Alright, alright, you can ask her. But don't force it okay? If she sounds as if she doesn't want me to come, please don't push it. The last thing I want is for your family to have another reason so resent me, or to intrude on a family event."

"Alright Arthur, you know what? Lemme call her." And with that, he got up from the bed and went to stand in the hall outside the apartment. No where within its walls was fit for making a phone call home. (Gilbert was the kind of person who would walk around screaming 'Where'd you fuckers leave my bong?' while he knew a person was talking to their mom on the phone, because he was just an insensitive fucker like that.)

The phone rang a few times before she answered.

"Hey mom!"

"Hi honey! How are you?"

"I'm good! How are you?"

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Well, I had a question about Thanksgiving."

"Okay, shoot."

"Okay, well. I was wondering if Arthur could come back with me." Before she could give him an immediate answer, he plowed on with the pity routine. "I mean, he doesn't have any where to go, so he would be here all by himself for a week, and since he's English he hasn't even celebrated Thanksgiving any ways…"

"Well, he doesn't have too much work to do?"

"Nope!"

"And you'll have room in your truck to bring him back with you?"

"Oh of course I will!"

"He would have to sleep on the couch."

"I know mom!" Awkwardly, Alfred realized that she was afraid that Alfred would want Arthur to sleep with him in his room. Yeah, not really while he was home. As much as he loved sleeping with Arthur, it wasn't something that he would really want to do while he was under the same roof as his parents.

It wasn't really his mom that he was worried about, ultimately. She was a little traditional sometimes, but she was a bit of a push over, and usually trusted Alfred. His father on the other hand was a different story. He would not be so easily won. He knew his mother hadn't told his father about Arthur. He knew mostly because he wasn't disowned or anything yet.

But in the end, much to his satisfaction, his mother relented. And he victoriously reported to Arthur that he should be packed and be ready to stay with Alfred's family for the week.

They would be riding in his pickup truck, which was about twenty years old, and had been used by his father while they still lived on the farm in Virginia. It was kind of beat up, and kind of old, but he loved it. His father had driven it into the city over the weekend while his mother drove another car and they had dropped it off there so that he could drive himself home while they went to work.

As the day for their departure approached, Alfred became progressively more excited. When he finally got out of his last class, and threw his duffle bag in the back of his truck and drove to Arthur's building, he was so pumped he had the radio blasting and he was having trouble keeping still.

Arthur came down with an elegant little suit case and in sharp contrast to Alfred, gently put it in back before hopping in the passenger side.

"Hey there." And Alfred leaned over and kissed him before restarting the truck and pulling back into traffic. When he restarted the truck the radio came screaming back to life and Arthur winced at its volume. Alfred looked a little guilty as he turned it down while Arthur buckled up and got situated.

"Were you really listening to it that loud before I came down?"

"Haha, yeah?"

"Ugh, Alfred, if you are going to blast music, at least don't blast this rubbish."

Alfred liked classic rock stations, or just those stations that played the most popular songs over and over. But when dealing with a put upon Arthur, appeasement always had value.

He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and handed it to Arthur.

"You can DJ?" Arthur started scrolling though his songs, nodding every once in a while as if in approval of certain selections, while Alfred dug out that tape thing that you could plug your iPod into.

Arthur plugged it in and then looked smug when the Beatles came on.

Alfred just laughed. And then sang at the top of his lungs. At first Arthur looked a little disturbed, and he laughed at him a couple of times, but then he started to nod along with the songs, and Alfred barely noticed when he finally gave in and started singing along too. Then he started to forget to pick new songs, and the iPod went to shuffle and Arthur still knew most of the words.

He knew Arthur was musically talented, but Arthur refused to ever admit it. Alfred knew he could play killer guitar, and he had a good voice, but he didn't like to brag about it. Alfred could only play a few things on a guitar, and his voice was usually out of tune.

Regardless, they both sang along to whatever came on as Alfred sped out of the city and onto the highway headed for his town, only about two hours away.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13 Love in America

TheQuirkyWriter: Wow, that you so freakin much! I promise I will keep updating it, this story means a lot to me, and that fact that other people read it it always so amazing to me. But yeah, I promise it will be finished, it's the only huge multichapter that I have ever started knowing how it will end...

crocious: don't worry about the slept with Francis thing, that drama is gunna cool off for a little bit...we have other things to deal with...

Axxi: Right? He's such a cutie :) I know I find him charming.

TheNeonPen: Oh, I am really glad you liked it! I just thought it might be helpful to people... It helps me write it, so I thought I would share...

CaptainCynical: Thanks! I know this story is super dramatic, but I can't help it... And I live Manada too, seriously, he is always underestimated! I am glad you enjoyed!

And now onto the chapter! Gratuitous cursing and ass-hattery ahead...

* * *

"Alright Arthur! This is my block!" Alfred said at the same time Arthur said "Calm down!" because he wasn't driving straight.

The day was gray, and cold like he thought November days ought to be. Not biting, just cold. Alfred was bursting with excitement; he had been since he had texted Arthur that morning before his classes when he had woken up. And while the drive had been something of a release, Arthur was still nervous as hell about this trip. Alfred might be socially oblivious, but Arthur was not.

The neighborhood looked like the kind of neighborhoods you saw on TV shows about the classic American family. Somehow, Arthur could see Alfred being home here.

Arthur turned the radio off as they pulled into the drive way of a neat, lovely house. Arthur didn't want to say it was perfect, but. It looked like it to him: two stories tall, a garden withered with winter but there none the less, and basketball hoop at the top of the driveway in between the drive ways doors.

"This is it!" Alfred said unnecessarily, but Arthur was too preoccupied to say anything sarcastic like how why else would they have pulled in?

They got their bags out of the back, and there was already a woman waiting for them with the door open.

"Alfred! Honey! I'm glad you're home!" she had a bit of an accent, a more southern one. Arthur assumed it was from living in Virginia.

Alfred dropped his bag, and hugged his mother, who shut her eyes and squeezed him. Arthur felt something in his chest get tight, because he tried to imagine his mother doing the same and was unable to do so.

"And you must be Arthur!" and then she hugged him too. Why would she? He wondered for a moment, but then remembered his manners and leaned into the hug a bit. "It's nice to meet you!" and then she shook his hand. Was that backwards?

"It's very nice to meet you as well Mrs. Jones." Arthur replied to her and she smiled kindly. It wasn't hard to see where Alfred got it.

She ushered them inside, where there was a man watching TV. He got up and gave Alfred a one armed hug, then turned to Arthur.

He held out a hand, and shook Arthur's hand warmly.

"Hey there. You're Alfred's friend Arthur?" Ah, so Mrs. Jones hadn't broken the news to him then. Arthur could only assume Alfred's mother hadn't bothered.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Jones." Alfred's father let out a bark of a laugh.

"How polite!" he said, and then he sat back down on the couch. "Make yourself at home" he said over his shoulder to Arthur, but his attention was already back on the TV.

"Come on Arthur!" Alfred dragged him through the living area, to the stairs and then up, down a hall and to a bed room door that was covered in silly little things. He swung the door open and it was glaringly apparent to Arthur that this was Alfred's childhood bedroom. All its contents seemed to exemplify objects he would consider to be "Alfred".

Piles of comic books on the floor, and old movies posters on the walls, clothes all over, made it hard to see what the room's original flooring or walls looked like. It also smelled sort of like Axe.

Alfred strode in and dropped his bag.

"Home sweet home." He said, turning around to Arthur and grinning.

Alfred showed him around more, to some of the other rooms, and then showed him little things of his. Some of it was a little boring, but Alfred seemed so ecstatic that Arthur was hard pressed to say anything.

Then Alfred's mother made dinner, and they sat around, somewhat awkwardly, while Alfred's mother asked somewhat awkward questions about Arthur's family that he either politely answered or politely avoided. They had looked impressed when he told then what university he attended, but other than that they didn't pay him too much mind. He found Alfred's mother scrutinizing him a few times, but at least his father didn't bother to pay any attention to him.

After spending his adolescent years learning to stare down his own mother, he felt as if he could stare down a tiger, and Alfred's mother didn't scare him much.

After they ate, Alfred pulled Arthur into the basement where they watched a movie, and Alfred held his hand under the blanket.

Arthur awoke the next morning to the sounds of Alfred's parents moving about the house, getting ready to leave for work. He made sure to look asleep, not really wanting them to talk to him at all. After they left, he tried to go back to sleep, but it evaded him.

Slowly, he got up. Alfred wasn't awake yet, and it was still fairly early.

The couch hadn't been too bad to sleep on, actually.

He stood, taking one of the blankets wrapped about his shoulders to guard against the November morning chill. The sky outside the windows was gray, and the land and houses looked dull against it. It was very November looking.

He took in the living room, so different from his mother's. The furniture was chosen more for comfort than style, and the difference was distinct. He wandered about, padding along in his bare feet and simply nosing around a bit. He hadn't gotten to have such a good look yesterday, while the family had been home.

He stopped before the mantel piece, where various pictures of Alfred stood proud or hung happily from the walls beside it. Again, he couldn't help but bitterly wonder how many pictures of him his mother had in her living room.

He looked closer at the pictures. There was one of Alfred as a child, dressed as a super hero with his roller skates on. He held his arms up as if he was flexing his muscles, and he was grinning ear to ear. Next to it, he knelt for his sports photo, looking handsome in his football uniform (American football, that is). He was beaming in this one too, and looked like an American television high school dream. Next to that, he stood shining in a tuxedo next to a beautiful girl in a gown that matched Alfred's tie, for what Arthur could only guess was his prom. He was struck then with the differences between himself and Alfred.

Arthur studied these and others, transfixed by the juxtaposition between the beautiful boy he saw in these photos to the image he had of Alfred in his own mind, tripping drunk, or breathing heavily and writhing beneath him. For a moment if felt too strange, but then Arthur realized that he liked it, it was what he liked about Alfred. He was golden, and alive, while still being real, still being something Arthur could touch.

Piss it; he didn't care if Alfred was still asleep.

He went up the stairs to the over decorated bedroom door and knocked lightly before entering.

Alfred's covers were somewhat tangled around him, but he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Arthur approached the bed quietly.

"Alfred." He whispered, and Alfred stirred, but only minutely. "Alfred, may I join you?"

Alfred just made a little humming sound that Arthur decided to read as consent and then rolled on his side, leaving more room on the edge. That was all the invitation Arthur needed.

He slid in next to Alfred, and the bed was warm, and Alfred was warm, and Arthur wriggled a little bit while he adjusted.

"You're cold." Alfred murmured, his voice still sleepy. "C'mere bunny."

"What?" Arthur thought Alfred might have just called him something that wasn't his name, not even a little bit. Hm.

"I said come 'ere." Alfred wrapped his arms around him, and pulled his snug against him. Arthur decided to let it go in favor of nodding off.

They were awakened about two hours later when Arthur was alarmed to realize there was something licking his face. He quickly recoiled.

"Gah!"

Alfred rolled over.

"Oh, Tess! Hey girl!" He said, sitting up. There was a larger golden retriever wagging her tail excitedly beside the bed. Arthur assumed he had just met the family pet.

"Come here girl!" Alfred said enthusiastically and patted the bed. She jumped up immediately and joined them, laying down right in between them. She panted a bit and wagged her tail, looking at them happily. Alfred wore a similar expression in return. Arthur sighed.

They spent the day not doing much, lounging around the house. they walked Tess at one point, and Alfred took him to his old high school, where they walked her through the sports fields and around the track. Alfred really loved that dog.

His parents got home, and the routine was the same. The next day was supposed to be Thanksgiving…

Alfred awoke to the sound of something loud downstairs. At some point he realized it was his father, yelling. Adrenaline and fear and shot through him, and in an instant he was out of his bed.

He flew down the stairs, only to stop at what he was faced with. He father stood in between the kitchen and the living room, his face red. Arthur stood up by the couch, his posture looking shocked, but his face looking defensive and hard, and angry.

And Alfred saw that his father held his phone in his hand. Alfred's phone, the one that he had been texting Arthur on, the one he had used to tell Arthur just what he would be doing if they were sleeping in the same bed. He had been texting him the night before after he went up to bed, and all of that, oh god…he must have left it on the counter after dinner, stupid stupid…

"Alfred what the fuck is this?" he father yelled, waving the phone around. Alfred realized that prior to his arrival, his father might have been yelling at Arthur. He felt a wave of a protective feeling come over him, because however much he might be used to his dad's temper, Arthur never did anything to deserve this, it wasn't his problem, and Alfred had brought him here-

"You bring this goddamn shit into my house?" More of his father's yelling broke his train of thought.

"Dad, what-" Alfred started back, but his father wasn't ready to stop.

"Alfred, don't you fucking start with me, did you really bring him here just so that you could do shit like this under my roof?" he father was still yelling.

"We weren't doing anything wrong, you can just-"

"Just what Alfred? I'm your father, and this is my house! When the fuck were you going to tell me you brought some goddamn fairy home with you so you could- fucking-"

Alfred was down the stairs now, and in his father's face, and between Arthur and him.

"Don't you dare call him that, what the hell!"

"I'll call him whatever the fuck I want, I don't give a damn if he's a faggot, but the hell if my son will be one!"

"And what fucking business did you have going through my phone anyways?" Alfred yelled.

"Who pays the bills on this phone?"

"That doesn't give you the right to invade my privacy!"

"And you will never have the right to act like this-" he said, waving Alfred's phone around, "in my fucking house, you ungrateful son of a bitch."

Alfred grabbed his phone from his father's hand. His father's words sunk in, and he realized what needed to happen.

_And you will never have the right to act like this in my fucking house, you ungrateful son of a bitch._

Not in his fucking house? Fine.

Fuck this.

"Fine." Alfred said, no longer shouting. And he turned to Arthur.

"Get your shit."

Alfred felt like someone had replaced all the blood in his veins with fire, and then made his heart go three times its normal rate. He burned.

He ran back up the stairs, -"Where the hell are you going?"- two at a time, and back into his room, grabbing his duffle bag and throwing whatever else had been taken out of it since his arrival hastily back in it. He was shaking.

His mother was out in the hall way when he left his room.

"What-" she started to ask, but he didn't stop to talk, instead heading back down the stairs.

When Alfred reentered the living room, he saw Arthur was by the door with his suitcase. That was fast, and Alfred was grateful he had known what to do.

"Where the hell are you going?" he father yelled again, coming in from the kitchen.

"Out of your house!" Alfred yelled back. That was what he wanted? That was what he was gunna get.

"Alfred wait-" his mother called, but he was less than interested. He made sure to slam the front door behind him. He jogged to the truck, slung his duffel into the back, and reared it to life. Once he saw Arthur was in his seat, he went careening out of the drive way and down the street. He didn't drive far before he hit the brakes, and pulled over, and then slammed his head against the steering wheel.

Out of the corned of his eyes, he could see Arthur had his head back against the seat and his eye closed, and he was breathing heavily.

"Fuck." He breathed.

"Fuck!" he said, louder, and hit the steering wheel.

"Alfred." Arthur started, his voice cautious.

"I can't- just. Gimme a minute." He said. He needed to process, he needed to think. Or something. What now? Where?

He didn't want to go back to Boston. Not right now.

And what about Arthur?

If he was alone, he would just drive, and deal with the consequences. How far could he get? How far could they go in the days left of their break? How much money did he have? Enough to buy a hotel room for a night or two, if they were cheap, and gas, some fast food. Hm.

"Arthur, how much money do you have with you?"

He shrugged, his eyes closed and head still resting against the head rest.

"Enough, I suppose. Why?"

"How much of the country have you seen?"

"Well," he said and then paused to think. "Only the city, really, and that time we all tried to take the bus to the beach, but we didn't really end up there because Gilbert-"

"Wanna go on a road trip?"

Arthur barely paused.

Then he leaned forward and turned Alfred's GPS on, ready. "Where?"

Alfred considered.

"Virginia."

And Arthur began entering in it into the GPS. Alfred watched for a moment, monitoring him, but Arthur just put in the town that Alfred had grown up in for the destination, no questions asked.

Alfred started the engine, and pulled away. He dug his iPod out, turned on some AC/DC and sped towards the highway.

He didn't bother to take too much stock in their situation. He took note that it was 2:00 a.m. and that the GPS said they would be there in about ten hours. The gas tank was about three quarters of the way full and he was still shaking a little.

* * *

Okay, so there it is... What will happen next? What will they do? Dun Dun Dun!

And sorry about writing douchebag parents, but... we all have them, or know some one who has them... it happens. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

Also, I have some doodles for this story that I have done, want me to post them?


	14. Chapter 14 Road Trippin'

I am so sorry about how long this took. New semester's gunna kill me. I don't have time to post doodles or anything right now, I just thought I would through this up while I had five minutes. Thanks for reading! -

* * *

They stopped at a gas station because as far as Alfred was concerned, snacks were mandatory. Arthur had said something less than charitable about American's and eating for comfort, but Alfred had just flipped him off as he climbed out of the truck. Arthur insisted that he didn't want anything, but Alfred got him some Pringles and Reese's out of courtesy.

So with sugar and caffeine, they started off again. Arthur scoffed when Alfred handed him his share, but Alfred noticed him nibbling on them a little while later. He could live with that.

They had been driving for an almost an hour before Arthur reached over and turned the music down.

"Alfred, are you alright?"

He made a frustrated noise. Arthur waited.

"I don't- I don't know."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I don't even know what I am right now. I mean, I am fucking pissed that my dad is such a bitch, and that you had to see that. I mean. I can't believe that was how he found this out, and this is the outcome." He said, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh." Arthur said in response, and turned back to stare through the windshield. He felt the guilt wash over him.

* * *

About two hours later, Arthur had insisted that he drive for a bit, since Alfred was starting to look sleepy. After convincing Alfred that just because he was British didn't mean that he wouldn't be able to drive Alfred's American and backwards car, he had pulled over and they had switched.

Arthur wasn't sure what kind of an answer he had been looking for from Alfred; mostly he just wanted to say something, and hear Alfred say something, because the silence between them after something like that was unnerving, and seeing Alfred with that look on his face was unnerving.

Then again, seeing him scream in his father's face had been unnerving.

Strangely, he felt like he had a better idea of why Alfred had been so hesitant to be with him. Arthur's parents had always seemed to know, and hadn't been surprised when he brought his first boy home. Alfred's parents seemed absolutely besides themselves.

He looked over at Alfred, who now slept slumped in the passenger seat. He looked more peaceful now. He had his head leaned against his arm which was pressed against the window, and it bent his glasses off his face. Eyes still straight ahead, Arthur reached over and took his glasses off his face, folded them, and put them in the cup holder.

Every once in a while, he allowed himself a sideways glance at him. Alfred looked younger that way. Smaller.

In many ways, he was small. Sometimes nothing more than child-like. He was a sore loser, overly excitable, energetic and prone to hero-worship. Arthur had seen those clear blue eyes look to him with that admiration before. It both warmed and frightened him; he was no one to aspire after, yet the fact that Alfred saw enough good in him to bother made Arthur feel like a better person.

Alfred always made him feel like that. Made him feel better than he thought he was, made him feel like there was something worth being awake for, make him feel awake. Awake and alive.

And staring down the high way before him, Arthur realized he felt alive.

Alive because he was no longer dragging his heels, he was running. Alfred made him run; he had to run to keep up with him. That perpetual movement that was Alfred, and the way that Arthur had become synchronized to it, had made him vicariously alive, where there had only been stagnancy before.

He needed Alfred to keep himself alive. And he loved Alfred, because Alfred was worth keeping up with.

He loved Alfred.

He was so surprised that he jerked, and swerved the car, which promptly ran into the noisy bumps that lined the highway before correcting and getting back in the lane.

* * *

Alfred awoke when the car swerved and the rumble it made jolted him.

"Arthur?" he asked drowsily. Arthur glanced over at him, and then returned to staring straight ahead. Alfred thought he looked like he'd just seen a ghost; he looked spooked, or maybe just agitated. Alfred wasn't sure.

"Are you getting tired? I can drive if you want?"

"I'm not tired." Arthur said, but his tone was terse. Alfred felt confused.

"Well, I just thought I'd ask since you were driving off the road. Or was that because you're British, and learned to drive wrong…?"

"Honestly Alfred." He spared Alfred a withering look, but Alfred sensed it was lacking some of its usual vigor.

At some point though out that, Alfred noticed that his glasses were off.

"Shit, where's my…" he trailed off, and began searching blindly for them in his lap or on the floor. He must have knocked them off in his sleep.

Arthur reached down and pulled them out of the only still vacant cup holder, and passed them to him.

"Oh. Thanks." Had Arthur seen him with them on while he slept and removed them? Alfred felt something kindle within him, at the thought that Arthur would do something so caring towards him. He could be a dick, but really, on the whole, Alfred thought that Arthur seemed to care about him. The way he looked after him was more than you would do for someone who was just a fuck.

Alfred realized, as he adjusted his glasses on his face, that he didn't regret his decision at all. Leaving his house, and his parents, to be with Arthur, would be just fine. Because Arthur cared about him too, and really, he cared about Arthur.

It wasn't for another minute of sitting there that he guiltily realized that he would rather be with Arthur. Not investigating that further, he decided.

It was far too quiet in the truck.

"What'd you do with my tunes man?" Alfred asked, incredulous, after he realized that they had been turned off.

Arthur looked puckish and grinned a little.

"Alfred, your music was shit, so I turned it off."

Alfred would have felt more offended if nine times out of ten he didn't think Arthur's music was shit. Unless Arthur was singing it. Arthur could be singing anything, and Alfred wouldn't mind at all.

He slumped in his seat and pouted at Arthur a little anyways. Arthur was a sucker for a good pout.

It only took about fifteen more seconds before Arthur jammed the radio back on.

"Insufferable little…" he muttered.

It was starting to get light, and Alfred realized the sun would rise as they drove. He loved sunrise on the road, and the way it shone through the trees that flashed by the car, and as the sun rose, it would start to speckle the ground and shine in their eyes. It was so beautiful in his mind, and he wanted to tell Arthur about it, share his anticipation, but he wasn't really sure how to say it without sounding weird. So what he said instead was:

"The sun will be up soon, I think."

"Yes, with any luck." He said, sounding a bit sarcastic.

"Oh shut up Arthur, I know it is going to come up, I was just pointing out-"

"And I was just surprised that you felt the need to, since 6 o'clock means almost sunrise here."

"Okay, well do you have a problem with me pointing it out? Because if not, you could not be a fucking smart ass, ya know? You could just-"

"Or I could let you know when you are talking just to make noise, in a possibly futile but never the less persistent hope that you will one day grow out of it."

"You're such a dick." A lot of the time he felt like Arthur was just better at words than he was.

"And you're a prat."

Alfred wasn't fazed.

"Well anyways, you wanna stop for some breakfast? I bet we can get off somewhere and find something good. I'm starting to get hungry."

"Of course you are. Yeah, breakfast would be alright. We will have to keep driving until things start to open up though."

So Alfred settled in and took in the morning as it broke around them.

They pulled off for breakfast and despite Alfred's suggestion, Arthur has insisted that they didn't go to McDonalds. So they wound up at some random dinner instead. Alfred was too hungry to complain. Arthur didn't bitch as much as Alfred thought he might have. Odds were he was hungry too but didn't want to say anything.

* * *

Alfred's phone rang as the crossed the parking lot towards the car. He looked down at it, swore, and motioned that Arthur should go on to the truck. He threw him the keys and answered his phone. Arthur caught them and continued to the truck, knowing that it was probably Alfred's mother who had phoned. Arthur sat deftly in the passenger seat, watching Alfred paced while talking loudly into his phone. He couldn't hear what he was saying, but in a way he didn't really need to. Alfred had never been terribly controlled with his body language.

Arthur again felt guilty. He knew that he had been the one that had sent the text that Alfred's father had read, and they had been… well, they were a bit graphic. But who read someone else's texts any ways? What did I matter where he paid for it, didn't the man respect Alfred's privacy at all? Apparently not.

When Alfred walked a little closer to the truck, Arthur caught snippets of their conversation.

"-no mom, not until he apologizes….that's fine, but I don't have anything to say to him until he says something about what he said to me and Arthur." Alfred said hotly, and Arthur could see he was fuming.

About five minutes later he reentered the truck, slammed the door, and pulled out of the parking lot.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading, you are all wonderful 3


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